


Onside

by Kymbersmith90



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captain Cobra - Freeform, F/M, Football | Soccer, Illnesses, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kymbersmith90/pseuds/Kymbersmith90
Summary: Emma Swan is running out of options. Her son is desperate for a stem cell transplant that could save his life. So in a moment of madness, she reaches out to an unexpected source for help. Henry's beloved football team.Loosely based on a true story.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Kmomof4 has been requesting that I finally start publishing this piece, and given the World Cup madness currently taking place, I've caved to her wishes. This is the most advanced WIP in my folder, but I've been sitting on it for so long as it's a bit of a tear-jerker.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Again, I can't promise a firm update schedule for it. But as you probably know by now, I try not to keep you waiting too long.**

Emma had to admit, football was not one of her favourite past times. She still didn’t understand half the rules of the game, no matter how many times her father, or Henry, tried to explain them to her. But she wouldn’t trade her season ticket for anything. Seeing the way Henry’s face lit up at those games more than made up for her cold feet and lack of understanding.

David had started taking Henry to games when he was old enough to sit relatively still for the duration of the match. It had been their grandfather-son bonding trip, and as soon as Henry had started showing an interest in the games, it quickly became a tradition.

David bought Henry his first season ticket at the age of five.

Emma had started joining them a year later, when her son just wouldn’t stop banging on about this play, or that play, and she really had no idea what he was talking about. She’d hoped that joining them would help her pick up the game faster.

It never did.

Henry missed his first game at the age of seven.

Emma had been sure that it was just a virus, and that he’d be back at Old Trafford in time for the next home game.

But Henry missed eighteen more games that season.

_Leukaemia._

The diagnosis hit her in the face like a tonne of bricks, and Emma had to excuse herself from her son’s bedside to empty the contents of her stomach into the small toilet in his private room.

Her seven-year-old son had Leukaemia.

Henry never lost his spirit. Even on his worst days, he always had a bright smile for his mother and grandparents. David would make a point of coming to the hospital for every game. He’d subscribed to all of the sports channels, regardless of their cost, just so he could stream them to watch with his grandson.

The first bone marrow aspiration was the most painful procedure Emma had ever undergone.

But the physical pain didn’t even begin to compare to the emotional blow of finding out that she wasn’t a match for her son. And neither were either of her parents.

The logical step was to attempt to hunt down Henry’s father. But Emma hadn’t seen him since he’d been caught stealing and sent to Strangeways. Neal didn’t even know he was a father, and she had absolutely no idea how to go about finding him.

Emma wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, but as she watched her son waste away before her eyes, desperate for a bone marrow match, she decided that it was time to take drastic action.

While Henry and David caught the Champion’s League group game that evening, Emma reached for her laptop.

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_I am writing today to beg for your help._

_My son, Henry, is one of your biggest supporters. He’s been attending games with his grandfather since he was three. He got his first season ticket at the age of five. And between the ages of five and seven, he never missed a home game, no matter what the weather was doing._

_This year, my son has missed eighteen games so far._

_He was diagnosed with Leukaemia shortly after the season began._

_He still watches the matches with his grandfather, whenever he can. But it’s not the same for him. I know he misses the atmosphere in the stadium._

_My son is in desperate need of a stem cell transplant to save his life. I’m not a match. Neither are his grandparents. I suspect that his father may well be, but he doesn’t even know his son exists, and I have no idea where to begin looking for him._

_The British Bone Marrow Registry hasn’t been able to find him a match, so I’m writing to you today to beg for your help._

_My son loves this team so much, and I’m hoping your team will be able to help him to continue to do so, for many years to come._

_All I’m asking is for you to please, help me find a match for my son?_

_Yours,_

_Emma Swan._

She attached a picture of Henry at one of the last games he had been to, before his diagnosis, and sent the email before she could second guess her actions.

Emma turned her attention back to David and Henry, and their screams at the small television screen in front of them, as she pushed her laptop aside once more.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry for the delay with this one. I hope it's worth the wait.**

It had been three weeks since Emma had sent her email, and nothing had happened.

Not that she had expected it to.

It had been a desperate attempt, by a desperate woman, to help save her son, and she knew that the chances of it even being read by the right person were slim.

But when Emma arrived at the hospital that morning, it was to find the children’s ward full of a kind of restless energy it had never possessed before. The place was usually so somber and resigned, given the prognosis for most of its patients. But that morning, it felt like there was a feeling of anticipation in the air.

“Belle, what’s going on?” she asked, as she found one of Henry’s favourite nurses emerging from another patient’s room.

“You don’t know?” Belle asked, a frown creasing her brow. “I could have sworn Whale said they were here for Henry.”

“Henry? Who’s here for Henry?” she demanded, as her eyes flicked over to the room her son had been living in for the past few months. Emma didn’t care who the hell these people were, she wasn’t letting them anywhere near her son. She moved to push past Belle so she could make her way down the hall to work out what was going on, but stopped dead when Doctor Whale emerged from Henry’s room, pulling off his latex gloves as he did.

“Ahh, Miss Swan,” he greeted. “Just the person I was looking for. Do you mind if I have a word in private?”

Emma’s heart sank.

Private conversations with her son’s doctor never resulted in good news.

“Sure,” she reluctantly agreed, handing the bag of food she’d brought with her to Belle, (who promised that Henry would get it), before she followed the doctor into one of the few empty rooms on the ward. Emma was a little surprised to find that two other men were already waiting inside of it, one pacing in front of the window whilst the other sat on the empty bed, swinging his legs back and forth.

“Miss Swan, I believe you know Mr. Gold and Mr. Jones.” Doctor Whale pointed to each of the other gentlemen in turn, as they both raised their heads to meet her eyes. While they looked vaguely familiar to her, Emma knew that she’d never had any kind of personal contact with either of them before.

“No, sorry. Are you a part of Henry’s consulting team?” she asked. Both men were dressed in jeans and t-shirts, which suggested to Emma that they weren’t doctors. But she knew better than to judge people by their clothing preferences.

The older one laughed a little as he stepped forward and away from the window he’d been pacing in front of. “Allow me to make the introductions, Miss Swan. I am Robert Gold, manager for Manchester United Football Club. And this is my Captain, Killian Jones.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she took in the two men standing in front of her, before she began to laugh. Hysterically.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” she demanded, turning back to face Whale. “If it is… it’s not funny. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my son.”

“You wrote this email, right?” the younger one asked, taking a small step closer to her. His accent threw Emma for a moment, but when she turned back to face him, her eyes were drawn down to a well-crumpled piece of paper in his hands. “Your son Henry is sick, and you wanted our help?”

“Oh my God. You _actually_ read that?”

“Yeah. We did. Well, Gold told us about it and then we read it.” Emma’s eyes flicked over to Mr. Gold, who nodded his agreement, before settling back on the younger man’s face. “The entire team’s here today, ready to make arrangements to be tested to see if we’re a match for your son. And if none of us are, then we’re going to put it out as an announcement at the next game. The first person to come forward for testing who’s a match for Henry will win a free season ticket for the rest of their life. It’s not much, but it’s the best we can do for our biggest fan.”

Emma’s hand flew to her mouth to try and cover the sob that left it. Whale caught her just as her knees gave out, and she sank to the floor in a flood of tears. Both of the other men in the room looked a little uncomfortable at the sight of a crying woman, but neither of them said anything as the doctor whispered small words of comfort to her.

“Thank you,” she finally mumbled, when she was once again all cried out. It felt like all Emma did anymore was cry. She’d stopped being ashamed of doing it in front of others when she’d first heard the word leukaemia. “Thank you so much for this. Henry’s not going to believe me when I tell him you’re here.”

“He should do,” Gold replied with a chuckle, as he pulled out his phone. “The rest of the team have been posting bloody selfies with him all morning. This is apparently their idea of laying low.”

Emma took the small device that was being held out to her as another sob threatened to break free. She scrolled through tweet after tweet from Gold’s team members, all sharing various pictures of themselves sat around Henry’s now familiar bed, with her son’s wide smile beaming back at her.

“We hope you don’t mind them being posted,” Jones stepped in to offer. “Henry said it would be okay.”

“It’s fine. It’s absolutely fine.”

Emma couldn’t pull her eyes away from the tweets that were scrolling across the screen faster than she could keep up with. The ones without pictures praised the strength and sense of humour her little boy had shown so far in his fight, and there were even some from members of the public who sent their well-wishes for his recovery, or asked about becoming donors themselves.

She’d never seen anything quite like it before.

“Well, how about we let you get back to Henry to enjoy some breakfast, whilst we make a start on getting everyone tested?” Whale suggested, finally breaking the awkward silence that had settled over the room.

Emma handed Mr. Gold his phone back and watched as he followed Whale out of the room, already deep in conversation about how he would need the procedures to be spread out, so as not to interfere with the game the team had that weekend.

“After you, Miss. Swan.” Jones held the door open for her to leave first, and Emma sent him a small smile of gratitude as she slipped out of the room, before making her way back down the familiar corridors towards the one her son was resting in.

“Hey, Mum, you’re never gonna believe what’s happening,” Henry called out, the moment she rounded the door to his room. There were three other people still sat at his bedside that Emma didn’t recognise. But the excited tone his voice carried had her smile already stretching wider than it had since the original diagnosis had been made.

“I think I will, Kid,” she chuckled, as she made her way over to his side to drop a kiss to his forehead. The other people inside of the room seemed to take that as their cue to leave, as they each approached Henry once more with a promise they’d return soon, before heading back out to meet with their manager.

“I have to call Grandpa,” Henry declared, almost bouncing on the bed with his excitement. “He’s gonna be _sooooooo_ jealous when he finds out the whole team were here.”


	3. Chapter 2

Killian had been surprised by how simple the initial procedure had been. Whale had sat the entire team down to explain what would be happening over the next few days, and why. He had been expecting more than a simple blood test, so when the doctor had asked for the first set of volunteers, Killian had quickly raised his hand.

With his blood drawn and the usual lecture from the nurse given, he had fully intended to return to training for the day. But at the last moment he found himself taking a small detour, and instead of heading for the carpark, he made his way up to the Children’s Ward.

Killian was a little surprised to find Henry Swan sat alone inside of his room. At the very least, he’d expected the boy’s mother to be with him. Instead, the young lad was busy drawing on a piece of blank paper sat on the table over his bed, as he hummed to himself.

“Did your mam have to leave?” Killian asked, before he could stop himself.

Henry turned wide eyes and a bright smile his way, as he set his pencil down. “Yeah. She had to go and run some errands. She’s bringing back lunch though. So it’s all good.”

“Do you um… do you maybe want some company until she gets back?” Killian wondered, as he nodded to the free chair by Henry’s bed.

“From you? Always.” Henry practically bounced in place as he watched his favourite footballer make his way fully into the room, and take a seat in the free chair beside his bed. “Did it hurt?” he asked, with his eyes locked on the small plaster covering the puncture site on his hero’s inner arm.

“The test?” At the emphatic nod of Henry’s head, Killian found himself fighting back a smile as he replied, “Not really. I’ve had plenty of blood tests over the years. You sort of get used to them by the time you reach my age. As long as the nurse knows what she’s doing, that is.”

Henry snorted into his bed sheets, before lifting his right arm. Killian hadn’t noticed the deep purple bruise that surrounded the cannula that had been inserted into it. “Mum says it’s a side-effect of the treatment,” the young lad explained, at the horrified look on the footballer’s face. “But I just think it was the nurse. She did _not_ look like she knew what she was doing.”

Killian couldn’t contain his snort of laughter at the conspiratorial look on the boy’s face, as he relaxed back into his chair a little. He hadn’t spent much time around kids before, but Henry Swan was proving to be easy to talk to. “Do you um… do you spend a lot of time here alone?”

The thought of the boy being unaccompanied in a hospital as he was treated for cancer was twisting Killian’s insides into a knot. He hadn’t spent a great deal of time that morning with the lad, but from what he’d seen and heard from the others, Henry had an incredible spirit for someone of his age, going through as much as he was.

Killian knew from the tone of Emma Swan’s email that she was a good mother, who would do anything for her child. But he also knew how demanding life could be. He wondered just how difficult it was for her to balance those demands with her desire to be by her son’s side, as he fought off a life-threatening disease.

“Not really. Mum got a job working nights so she could stay with me most of the day. But she still has some stuff she needs to do during that time. She usually tries to get it all done over lunch, so she can bring me something back to eat. Hospital food sucks.”

“Yes it does,” Killian agreed. “I’m glad your mam was able to work something out for you both. What do you normally do when she’s gone?”

“I like looking at the pictures in my comics and making up my own stories for them. Or drawing.” Henry pointed to the picture he’d been working on when Killian had interrupted him. One that looked very much like the beginnings of a picture of the boy with his favourite football team. “But it gets a bit boring at times. I don’t wanna complain to mum, because I know she works hard. But we can’t really afford new books every week.”

“What kind of comics do you like?”

“Iron Man,” Henry replied excitedly. “Mum doesn’t like him because she says he’s a playboy. I dunno what that means though.”

Killian laughed nervously as the lad turned expectant eyes his way, while he brought a hand up to scratch awkwardly behind his right ear. “Yeah, I uh… I dunno know what that means either,” he lied. Not that it convinced Henry, if the look on his face was anything to judge by. “Have you um… have you seen all of the movies?” he asked instead, in an attempt to distract the kid from his line of questioning.

“A couple, but they don’t tend to put them on the channels we get in here. Grandpa gets me the sports passes when you play, but we can’t really afford the good movie ones too.”

“That’s understandable.”

Killian hadn’t stopped to think about how expensive simple things like the movie channels would be to someone in Emma Swan’s position. But now that he was, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how much money she would be burning through every month, thanks to the cost of hospital stays. Even he had cringed that morning when he’d pulled in and seen the parking charges - and he earned a six figure sum on a weekly basis.

“Would you maybe like to watch one with me now?” He gestured to the small tablet that was sat on the table in front of Henry. It wasn’t the best on the market, but Killian assumed that the boy’s mother had purchased the best she could afford, so that her son would be able to enjoy _some_ form of basic entertainment while he was stuck in a hospital bed, day after day.

“How?” Henry asked innocently.

“Oh, I um… I have the movie channels,” Killian explained. “I have the sports ones too, so if your grandpa wanted to stop paying expensive subscriptions to those, you could always just use my details? I don’t tend to watch much TV anyway, as I’m usually busy training. So I thought that maybe you guys might be able to put them to good use for me? Just don’t go charging any dirty movies to my account, okay?” Killian regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth, when Henry turned to face him wearing a thoroughly confused expression.

“Never mind,” he deflected quickly, before the lad could ask for a description of some kind. “Pass me your tablet and I’ll download the apps you need and sign you in.”

It didn’t take the two of them long to get the right apps installed on the device, nor for Killian to log into his account. Once he had, he passed the small tablet back to Henry, and watched as the boy browsed through all of the new content he would now be able to stream with it, his face lighting up with excitement as he did. It wasn’t much, but it was something small that Killian could do to help improve what would probably be the worst days of Henry’s entire life.

When the lad eventually made it to the movies section of the planner, and then over to the very first Avengers film, he turned towards Killian expectantly, as he shuffled across his bed.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Coming where?”

Henry nodded to the small space he’d made beside himself on the bed. “You can’t see the screen from all the way over there,” he explained. “And cancer’s not contagious, so you don’t need to worry about catching it.”

Killian had his mouth open to protest against Henry’s assumptions when he saw the humour dancing behind the boy’s eyes. The Swan lad had been teasing him, and he was a little shocked to see it. The young boy might have been living with a deadly disease, but he had a better sense of humour than most of Killian’s teammates did.

“I don’t wanna squash you,” he warned, standing awkwardly from his seat.

“You won’t,” Henry told him confidently, as he scooted a little further over the bed.

At first, taking a seat beside him had been all kinds of uncomfortable. Killian was hyper aware of how close he was to Henry, and all of the wires and tubes that were fixed to the young boy’s body. But as the film began to play, and they both found their attentions fully fixed on the small screen, he started to realise that there was nothing for him to worry about. Henry clearly knew how to take care of himself, and he seemed to be enjoying the chance to watch one of his favourite superheroes in action once more, with his favourite footballer by his side.

Until the excitement from the day finally caught up to him, and he drifted to sleep with his head pillowed against Killian’s shoulder.

* * *

When Emma Swan arrived back at the hospital later that afternoon, with a box of freshly prepared pasta salad to share with her son, it was to find Henry curled into the chest of one of his heroes. The two of them were sleeping soundly on the small hospital bed, while her tablet blasted out some kind of action movie from the table in front of them.


	4. Chapter 3

When Killian woke, it took him a moment to remember exactly where he was and why. The unfamiliar whiteness of the walls and ceiling were startling at first, until he felt the reassuring weight of Henry’s sleeping form against his own, and all of his memories came crashing back over him.

He looked down first to the little boy in his arms, still sleeping heavily, before he cast his eyes around the room. There were paintings that had been hung on the walls, to try and add a little more colour to the space. A woman was sat at the small table beside the window, and there was an even smaller television mounted directly opposite the bed.

It took a moment for his sleep-addled brain to register that something had changed since he’d fallen asleep, before his eyes flew over to the woman sat at the small table beside the window.

“I uh… I’m so sorry,” he apologised. “We were watching a movie together and I must have fallen asleep. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s okay,” Emma Swan chuckled softly. “I’m his mother. I’m well aware of just how persuasive my son can be. How long did it take him to sweet talk you into staying?”

“I offered,” he admitted bashfully. “I didn’t like the thought of leaving him here alone.”

“I don’t either,” Emma admitted sadly. “Unfortunately, I learned a long time ago that in order to still get as much normalcy in your life as possible, while you have a child in the hospital, you sometimes need to leave during business hours.”

“I wasn’t judging you, Miss. Swan. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult this has all been for you.”

Emma nodded her agreement as she went back to fiddling with the pages in front of her. “I’m just hoping that this will be the start of the end,” she sighed. “I’m um… I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.” She turned her focus back to Henry, who was still sleeping peacefully in the arms of his idol, as she thought back on all of the difficult times the two of them had been through together.

The crying and the screaming, on both of their parts. The chemotherapy and the hair loss that had come with it. The vomiting and constant pain her child suffered. The sleepless nights full of worry about if Henry would wake the following morning, and if he did, how she would afford to keep paying their rent.

Emma prayed to every God that she knew of that her email landing in the hands of Mr. Gold would mean that this was the start of their luck turning, and that a match would soon be found for Henry.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Killian offered quietly.

“Thanks, but I think all we can do now is wait.”

He nodded his understanding as the two of them sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Killian wanted to offer up anything and everything he could think of, that would help the young woman and her son through this trying time together. But he had a feeling that Emma Swan would be too proud to accept any kind of financial help from him. And other than the tests that he’d already agreed to, he wasn’t sure what more he could do for them.

Eventually, he did the only thing he could think of that might help. Killian reached for one of the blank pieces of paper on Henry’s table, and one of the brightly coloured pencils that the young lad had discarded.

“This is um… this is my number,” he told her, as he wrote it out clearly. “You can use it any time you need to. If you need someone to sit with Henry while you’re busy with errands, or at work, I can do that. I can make lunch runs for you guys, or pick you up some groceries. And if you ever need someone to talk to, you can call me anytime of the day.”

Emma blushed a little as she reached forward to take the piece of paper from him, before she folded it up to slip in her back pocket. She wasn’t sure she’d ever use it, but she couldn’t begin to explain what it meant to know that he genuinely seemed to care about Henry’s wellbeing and future.

“I um… I should really get going,” Killian told her, cringing a little as he tried to extract himself from underneath a sleeping Henry. “Should I wake him up to say goodbye?”

“Yeah,” Emma chuckled. “He’ll be so annoyed if you slip out of here and he misses that chance.” She stood easily from her chair, making her way around to the other side of the bed, to brush Henry’s hair away from his forehead, as she softly called out, “Hey, little guy. Mr. Jones has to leave now. Do you wanna say goodbye?”

“Don’t wanna,” Henry mumbled sleepily, as he tightened his grip on Killian’s shirt.

“You have to,” his mother told him gently. “Mr. Jones has other places he needs to be.”

He didn’t say anything else, but Killian felt the way the boy wiggled tighter into his embrace, as Henry’s grip on his shirt never loosened.

He looked down at the little man who had such a fierce hold for someone so small, before he relaxed back against the bed once more. “If it’s okay with you, I can stay a little longer,” he told Emma. “Mam won’t mind me blowing off family dinner night this once, given that I have such a good reason to do so.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate for you to feel the wrath of your mother,” she giggled. “I know what my own can be like, when I cancel on a family function.”

“Ahh, but you’re forgetting my secret weapon,” Killian teased. “The moment I show her pictures of young Henry here, she’ll melt and all of her ire will completely drain away.”

* * *

When Henry finally woke from his nap a few hours later, it was to the rather surreal sight of his mother and his idol playing some kind of card game on the small table resting over his bed, as they whispered quietly together.

He feigned sleep for a few more moments, hoping to learn some more about their interactions. But apparently his acting skills weren’t as good as he’d thought them to be, as Killian Jones’s hand came down to tickle him softly, while he declared, “I know you’re awake, young man. I felt your breathing change when you started to stir.”

“Whatcha doing?” Henry asked curiously, as he pulled himself out of Killian’s arms to sit up a little better.

“I’m teaching your mother to play poker,” the football captain explained, as he threw a small handful of M&Ms into the middle of the table, and told Emma, “I’ll call.”

She sighed a little as she sat her hand down in front of her, cringing as she did. Killian had known that she’d been bluffing from the start, but he’d gone along with her play in the hopes of building her confidence.

“You got me, Swan,” he sighed dramatically, as he folded the pair of kings in his hand and began gathering up the rest of the cards on the table. “Enjoy your spoils.”

“Oh, I will,” she gloated, as she popped one of the chocolate treats into her mouth, and winked in the direction of her giggling son.


	5. Chapter 4

“Killian? What on earth has gotten into you tonight?” his mother snapped.

“Nothing, Ma.” He cringed even as the words left his mouth. Killian had been distracted all evening, and he knew that it was something his mother would eventually pick up on.

She was like a shark when it came to sniffing out her sons’ bullshit.

“Really? So what were we just discussing?” she asked, as she set her fork down to level him with the kind of gaze he used to get as a teenager, whenever he’d done something to disappoint her.

“I don’t know,” he admitted on a sigh. “Sorry, Ma. I guess I’m just a little preoccupied right now.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone immediately switching to that one of concern he’d also come to know well, during his teenage years.

Killian hesitated for a moment, wondering how much he should share with his family, before he replied. “There’s this kid I met recently, and I guess I just can’t stop thinking about him and his mam.”

Moira’s look of concern only seemed to intensify at Killian’s explanation, so he rushed on to add, “Henry, the kid… he has leukemia. His mam got in touch to ask for our help with finding him a stem cell donor, and so far, it’s not been going well. We all agreed to be tested to see if we were matches, and the hospital is processing our results now. But even with the sudden influx of people that joined the donor registry after seeing some of the team’s tweets, nobody’s been declared a match yet. It makes me think that our hopes of finding him one are much slimmer than I first thought they’d be.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” she sighed. “That’s so good of you to do.”

“I just wish I had those results back. I feel completely useless right now.”

“You’re doing all you can,” his mother assured him. “Which is much more than most people would do in your situation.”

“I keep thinking about his mam, Emma. She’s clearly struggling with everything that’s going on right now, and I wanna do something to help… to make this easier on her. But I don’t know what more I can do.”

“An anonymous donation?” his brother suggested, between mouthfuls of their mother’s legendary lamb hotpot.

“No. She’d see right through that,” Killian argued. Because in the week since he’d last seen Henry and Emma Swan, he’d considered the same thing many times over. “Hey, Liam… do you know where I could find comic books?” he asked suddenly.

“No,” Liam mumbled, as all eyes around the table seemed to swing around to focus on the eldest Jones brother. “Why would I?”

“I dunno. You’ve always been sorta nerdy,” his brother teased.

“Just because I don’t care much about football, doesn’t mean I’m automatically a nerd,” Liam protested.

Killian shrugged his shoulders playfully, and then quickly dodged the arm his brother threw out in his direction. It was an argument they’d had many times before, and one they were likely to continue having, until they drew their last breaths.

* * *

“So, tell me more about this Henry,” Moira asked, as Killian helped his mother to clean up later that evening.

“He’s great, Mam. So full of life… and he just radiates this positive energy. Some of the guys on our team could learn a lot from him. I um… I offered to keep him company last week, while his mam had to run out and get some stuff done. I just… I wish I could do more for him, you know? It doesn’t seem fair that someone so innocent is suffering so much.”

Moira dropped the towel she was holding to the counter top to lean over and squeeze her son’s arm gently. “You’re a good boy, Killian,” she praised.

“I was thinking about maybe dropping by to see him again, and taking some comic books with me,” he explained softly. “Henry said that he was getting a little bored of reading the same ones over and over again, so I thought that might make him smile a little. But I don’t want his mam to think I’m intruding.”

“Given that she reached out to ask for your help, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” Moira assured her son, as she picked up her towel to continue her work. “But if you want a good excuse to stop by the hospital again tomorrow, then I can give you one.”

“You can?”

“Yes. Take me through when you finish training so I can be tested,” she told him.

“You don’t have to do that, Mam.” Killian knew how much his mother hated the sight of needles and blood. Visits to the hospital never went well for her.

“You’re right, I don’t _have_ to do that. I want to,” she assured him. “If I can help save someone’s life with a stem cell donation, even if it’s not young Henry’s, then I think that’s something I should definitely be doing.”

Killian leaned in to wrap his arms around his mother, as he gave her a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Mam. You’re the best.”

“Well of course I am. Where do _you_ think you get it from?” she joked. “As for your comic book conundrum, may I suggest Google. I’m sure it’ll be able to suggest at least one store in the Manchester area that sells _some_ form of comic books. Those will get the lad by, until you can have some more delivered to him.”

“Thanks, Ma. You’re a genius.”

The two of them worked in companionable silence for a moment as Killian scraped each of the plates clean into his mother’s composing bin, and then handed them over for her to rinse down, before she placed them into the dish washer.

It was those kinds of domestic moments that had always helped to keep him grounded, when the club had first signed him. Moira had been determined to make sure that her son wouldn’t turn into one of the footballers she often saw splashed all over the _wrong_ cover of the national newspapers. And Killian was incredibly grateful for that.

When he’d first started receiving his salary, the temptation to blow it all on flash cars, expensive clothing and nights out with his teammates had been high. But a few months into his training he’d quickly come to learn that Gold didn’t tolerate any kind of bad behavior in his team. The man had kids and grandkids that looked up to the footballers that worked under him. And he was going to make damned sure that every single man in that squad was the kind of role model parents would be proud for their children to follow.

“So… tell me about Henry’s mother,” Moira asked suddenly, startling her son out of his thoughts. “What did you say her name was again?”

“Emma,” Killian replied, a little too quickly.

“Tell me about her?” she asked. “Where’s Henry’s father?”

“He doesn’t know he has a kid. He’s definitely not in the picture, and from what little Emma wrote about him in her email, he sounds like he doesn’t deserve to be a father.”

Moira hummed thoughtfully but said nothing else, as Killian went on to explain about the desperate email Emma Swan had sent to her son’s favourite football team, and all of the sacrifices she had made to be with Henry, while he was receiving his treatment. The more Killian spoke, the more Moira’s heart ached for the young single mother and her precious child, who were both fighting so hard against the cruel hand life had given to them.


	6. Chapter 5

“You couldn’t have taken a shower first?” Moira asked, as she slid into the passenger’s seat of her son’s car.

“I did shower,” Killian explained, frowning a little in confusion.

“Then you need to air out this car. It stinks.”

He chuckled a little as he started the engine once more, and pulled out of the drive to head for the Royal Manchester Children’s Hospital. Killian could tell that his mother’s nitpicking was more of a side-effect of her nerves, than it was about the state of his car. But he still made a mental note to have it cleaned when he was finished that afternoon.

“How was training?” she asked, as they settled in for the short drive to the other side of the city.

“It was good. Robin’s still not fully fit, so the gaffer’s not massively happy that he’ll be missing the derby this weekend. But there’s not much we can really do about that.”

“Do you think it’ll effect your chances of getting the result?”

“I hope not,” he replied honestly. “But Robin’s the driving force in that back four. And I’m just not sure that John is strong enough to hold the defensive line for us, in the way that we really need him to. City are gonna be relentless in their attacks, and we need someone solid there to keep everything under control. But you know Gold. He’s gonna make sure that John puts in the best performance of his life this weekend.”

“Oh, he definitely is,” Moira chuckled. But her laughter died the moment she realised that her son was already pulling into the car park for the hospital.

“Are you okay, Ma?” he asked, as he switched off the engine and unbuckled his belt. “You do know that you don’t have to go through with this, right?”

“I want to,” she assured him, as she squared her shoulders and stepped out of the vehicle. Killian followed his mother’s lead, pausing to grab a couple of large bags from the luggage compartment, before he joined her again.

“How much did you bring for the lad?”

“I dunno. I just grabbed anything I thought he might like,” he explained, with a small shrug.

Truth be told, Killian had explained to a couple of his closest teammates about his next visit to Henry, and his desire to bring the boy some things that might cheer him up a little. So the guys had helped him raid the Megastore the night before, for everything they thought would fit Henry, or that he might like. When combined with the books that Killian had found in the Trafford Centre, it was probably a little excessive. But he was going to make sure that he laid most of the blame on his teammates, if Emma Swan asked about it all.

“You’re a good lad,” Moira assured her son, as she followed his lead over to the children’s hospital, and then through the building.

Even though he’d only been there once before, Killian found his way to the ward that Henry was staying on easily enough, and asked for Doctor Whale at the nurse’s station. He knew that the longer they waited around, the more his mother’s nerves would build. So he wanted to get her tests over and done with before he took her to meet the little boy that had wormed his way into Killian’s heart.

“Ah, Mr. Jones,” Whale greeted, as he held out a hand for shaking. “What can I do for you today?”

“It’s actually more like what we can do you for you,” Killian explained. “My mother would like to be tested and entered into the stem cell donor registry.”

“That’s excellent news. Shall we get you into my office, Mrs. Jones? We can go over all of the details there?”

“Please.”

Killian knew that having more details would help to reassure his mother, so he was glad to hear that Whale would be taking the time to give them to her. But he was a little surprised by what she had to say next.

“Why don’t you go and take that stuff to Henry?”

“Are you sure?” he asked. Killian had been pretty certain that she would have wanted him by her side for the test itself, so that she could crush his hand with her nerves while the blood was actually being taken. Having her dismiss him so easily felt a little worrying.

“Of course. I’ll be fine with Doctor Whale here.” She linked her arm with the doctor’s and the two of them took off for his office before Killian could even think to utter a word of protest.

“Okay then,” he muttered to himself, before he bent to pick up his bags once more, and set off down the corridor towards the room where he knew he would find Henry.

He wasn’t surprised to find the young lad alone inside of it. He knew that with it being close to lunchtime, it would be likely that Emma Swan was out running whatever errands she needed to do, while businesses were still open. But he was pleased to hear the familiar sounds of Age of Ultron reach his ears, as he rounded the doorframe.

“Hey, Lad,” he greeted warmly. “Have you got some time for visitors?”

Henry’s face lit up at the familiar sound of his hero’s voice, as he paused the movie playing on his tablet and dropped the device down onto his lap. “Always.”

Killian chuckled at his enthusiasm as he struggled through the small doorway with the heavy bags in each hand, before sitting them down beside the hospital bed in the room.

“What’s all of that?” Henry asked, his natural curiosity already piqued.

“This? This is for you,” Killian explained. “It’s just some stuff I had laying around the house that I thought you might like. Do you wanna see it?”

“Yeah!” Henry could barely contain his excitement as he bounced a little on the bed, while he watched the footballer sort through the contents of each bag.

“Okay… the guy at the store who sold me these said they’re omnibuses, which means there’s more than one story in them. I don’t know if they’re what you were after, but they sounded cool,” he explained lamely, as he placed five heavy, hardback books onto the table by Henry’s bed.

“Oh my God, these are amazing,” the kid praised, as he picked them up to flick through each one. There was one for Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, the Incredible Hulk, and Spider-man. “Thanks, Killian.”

“You’re welcome, Kid,” he chuckled.

The relief that flooded his system at Henry’s praise warmed him from the inside out. Although he’d never admit to it, he’d lost a few hours of sleep worrying that he’d been sold something that Henry would hate, because the omnibuses looked nothing like the comic books that he remembered from his childhood.

“The rest of this stuff all has some kind of logo on it, so I hope that’s okay,” he sighed, exaggerating it for effect as he pulled out a cushion in a familiar shade of red, with the United logo emblazoned on the front. There was a matching fleece blanket to go with it, along with a pennant that Killian hung over one of the more crazy looking pictures on the wall – much to Henry’s delight.

“This is fantastic,” the young boy declared, as he wrapped himself up in his new blanket, and propped the cushion behind his head.

“This is only the start,” Killian chuckled. “There’s much more to come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I know a few of you aren't football fans, so I thought I'd use this space to explain a few footballing terms used in this chapter. A gaffer is British slang for a football manager, and a derby is a game played by two teams based in the same city. So in this case, it would be a game between Manchester United and Manchester City.**


	7. Chapter 6

“Why does it look like a Megastore threw up in here?” Emma asked, as she made her way into Henry’s room.

At first, she was too distracted by all of the red that now covered the space to notice the rather sheepish looking man, perched on the side of her son’s bed. But as she slowly turned to take in all of the changes that had been made, her eyes fell easily on Killian Jones, dressed head-to-toe in the same Manchester United branded merchandise as her son was now wearing.

The two of them were huddled together on the small bed, watching what sounded like some kind of superhero movie, on what appeared to be a Manchester United branded laptop.

“Look Mum, Killian came to visit again,” Henry declared excitedly.

“I can see that,” she chuckled. “What uh… what made you guys decide to redecorate while I was gone?”

“I um… I brought Henry some stuff I had laying around the house.”

Emma sat a bag of takeaway food onto the table beside the window, and then made her way over to her son’s side, to examine the new merchandise that now covered his bed.

“And that stuff still had the tags on it?” she asked, as she picked up a corner of the blanket to show the footballer what she was talking about.

“Well… I’ve never used it before,” he argued. “And they send us a lot of free stuff for being part of the team.”

Emma hummed thoughtfully before she flipped the cardboard label in her hand over, and quirked a brow up at him as her suspicions were confirmed. “Why do they put price tags on the stuff that they send to you for free?”

Killian opened his mouth to make his counter argument, and then snapped it shut when he realised that he didn’t have one ready for her.

_Damn, she was good._

“I thought it might cheer Henry up,” he offered instead.

Emma took in the bright smile on her son’s face, and then the guilty expression on Killian’s. If cheering Henry up had been the football captain’s aim, he’d certainly achieved that. She was just a little worried about what the cost of that generosity would be.

“Can I um… can I talk to you outside for a moment, Mr. Jones?”

“Killian’s not in trouble, is he?” Henry worried. “Because I can give all of this stuff back, if he is.”

“It’s fine, Kid. You keep it. They’re gifts for you,” Killian told him firmly, as he leaned down to ruffle the boy’s hair.

“He’s not in trouble,” Emma assured her son. “I just wanted to speak to him about some grown-up stuff. We’ll be right back, okay?”

Henry still didn’t look convinced, but he nodded his head reluctantly before turning his attention back to the laptop screen in front of him.

Killian inclined his head to the door, indicating that Emma should leave the room first, and then followed her out and down the corridor to the empty waiting room. After closing the door softly behind the two of them, he turned to face Henry’s mother, who had a nervous look on her face.

“Look, Mr. Jones,” she began.

“Killian,” he interjected. “You can call me Killian.”

Emma smiled softly at that before she corrected herself. “Killian… I appreciate that you want to help Henry. I really do. But… if you really want to make him happy, then just come and see him whenever you can. He’ll appreciate that much more than he would any kind of material gifts. And if you can’t, or you don’t want to…please, be honest with him about that. Don’t try and buy your way out of it with expensive gifts, because he’ll just end up hating what they represent. Especially when they’re gifts that we can’t afford to pay you back for.”

“A gift is not something that you’re expected to pay someone back for, Swan. I don’t expect anything in return for them. I just… I know this stuff is all materialistic, and it doesn’t do much to help in the grand scheme of things. But… I wanted to make him smile. And so did the rest of the guys on the team. Yeah, we all went a little overboard. I think everyone knows that. But for most of us, we’ve never really had the chance to spoil someone like this before. This isn’t me buying myself out of the friendship I’ve formed with your son. This isn’t me trying to alleviate my guilt. I’ll be back. As often as you guys will have me. I just… I just wanted him to have some of the things that I get access to, and never really use.”

Emma smiled bashfully as she turned her gaze down to the toes of her boots. She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such generosity. While her parents had done everything they could to help her out, they hadn’t been in a position to gift her large items and sums of money, like some of her friends had received. She’d always had to work hard for what she wanted, and when Henry got sick, she found herself working even harder. So having someone else come in and dump her son’s wish list into his room was a little hard to accept, especially when there seemed to be no strings attached to his generous offer.

Killian Jones wasn’t using his gifts to undermine her, or as a way to have her owe him a favour at some point in the future, like some of the guys in her past had done before. He appeared to genuinely want to do something nice for them – something nice for Henry.

And hearing that he wanted to continue visiting her son was probably the best gift he could have given to them both. Emma knew Henry well enough to know that the little boy already loved having his idol in his life. So knowing that Killian was willing to stick around warmed her heart.

“Okay,” she agreed. “The gifts can stay. But the laptop goes home when you do. That’s _far_ too much.”

“As long as I can bring it back with me when I come next, I’ll agree to that.”

“And no more extravagant gifts. It’s not really fair on the rest of the kids here.”

“I brought stuff for them too,” he added. Because Will had made a similar suggestion during their raid, and Killian didn’t want to leave anyone feeling upset because of his actions.

“Of course you did,” Emma sighed. It was getting really difficult to stay angry at the guy when he was so damned sweet and thoughtful. “But no more. Henry doesn’t need all of this stuff. Just come and talk to him and he’ll be over the moon. I can guarantee you that.”

“I can uh… I can come and visit a couple of times a week? Maybe when you’re out running errands, so he’s not alone.”

“That would be perfect. Thank you.”

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, just smiling softly at the agreement they’d come to, before Emma inclined her head towards the door once more. “Did you want some lunch?” she asked. “I always buy extra on treat days, just in case Henry decided he can face more than one burger.”

The thought of fast food burgers turned Killian’s stomach a little. They never settled well with him, and he tried to avoid those kinds of restaurants as often as he could. But the idea of sharing a meal with Henry and Emma Swan was oddly appealing, even if their choice of food wasn’t.

“That would be nice. As long as I’m not eating someone else’s share.”

“Not at all,” she chuckled. “If I’m being brutally honest, I can’t really stand the stuff. So having someone to share it with will be a blessing. Henry loves it though, and as long as it makes him happy, I’ll choke it down.”

The loud bark of laughter that left his mouth made Emma jump a little in surprise, as she headed out of the small waiting room and back to her son’s bedside, with Killian Jones just a step behind her.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy Holidays everyone.**

Killian was half way through a game of ‘Go Fish’ with Henry and Emma Swan when the sound of a familiar voice drifted through the halls of the hospital, to meet his ears.

“Shit,” he cursed, before his eyes widened comically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I uh…”

“It’s okay,” Emma chuckled, jumping in to save him as she picked yet another card from the top of the pile. “He’s been to your games before. I’ve heard what they chant at those things. And it’s a lot worse than _shit_.”

Killian took a moment to relax back into his place on the bed, relieved that Emma wasn’t angry at him for swearing in front of her son. Until she asked, “What’s up?”

“I uh… I didn’t come here alone today,” he explained, cringing a little as he did. His mother’s voice was getting closer with every moment that passed.

“Did you bring your girlfriend?” Henry turned wide eyes up to his idol, and Killian quickly shook his head no.

“I don’t have one,” he told the young boy, before his eyes moved back to Emma’s face. “My uh… my mother came with me.”

“You left your mother in the car?”

“God no. I wouldn’t survive the night if I’d done that.” Emma and Henry both burst into giggles at his words, as Killian shuddered a little at the mere thought of how well that hypothetical situation would go down. “She’s been with Doctor Whale. She um… she wanted to get tested too,” he whispered softly.

Emma sucked in a harsh breath at his words and Killian turned worried eyes her way, scared that she’d banish him from Henry’s side for over-stepping his mark.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“She wanted to,” he assured her. “She wanted to help. Even if she couldn’t help Henry, she wanted to be able to help _someone_.”

Emma bit down on her bottom lip to stop it from trembling, and Killian sent her a small smile before turning his attention back to their game. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable, while she was in an emotional situation.

“My mother’s a little loud and… you know, I’m not really sure there’s an adequate word in the English language to sum her up,” he chuckled. “But she wanted to come and say hi to Henry, if that’s okay with you both?”

“Is she as cool as you are?” Henry wondered.

“Definitely not,” Killian scoffed. “Nobody’s as cool as I am.”

Henry giggled at his friend’s words just as there was a sharp knock on the open door to his room. The little boy was obviously unaware of the tension that small sound caused, as he called out a cheery, “Come in,” while Emma straightened up in her seat, and Killian’s hand flew up to his hair to try and somehow tame the post-training mess it had become.

“Hello,” Moira greeted softly, as her eyes swept over the small space. “Good God, Killian. How much did you buy?” she asked, as her gaze lingered over the pennants hanging over paintings, and the curtains that were now covering the windows.

Emma giggled a little at the way Killian’s mother had managed to call him out so quickly, as the man himself seemed to flounder for words. Eventually he settled on just one. His protest of, “Mam,” was delivered much the same way Henry always whined her own name, when she told him it was time for bed.

Apparently, that was something men didn’t grow out of.

Moira shook her head affectionately as she watched for a moment while her son interacted with the young boy sat beside him on the small hospital bed, and then turned to greet the only other woman in the room.

“Moira Jones,” she offered. “You must be Emma Swan.”

Emma stood to greet Killian’s mother, wiping her palms down the back of her jeans so that she wouldn’t offer the older woman a sweaty handshake. But before she had fully straightened up, Moira had pulled her into her arms for a warm and affectionate hug.

“How are you doing?” she whispered quietly, while Killian distracted Henry by making his next move in the game.

Moira allowed Emma to pull back a little so she could meet the other woman’s eyes.

Emma had planned to lie to Killian’s mother. To give her the same words that she gave her own parents, every time they asked her the same question. But there was something about the genuine concern that she could see behind this stranger’s eyes, that had her swallowing the words back down. Instead, she offered up the only words she had. “I’m here,” she said, because those two simple words seemed to convey everything that she couldn’t say in that moment.

“Yes, you are,” Moira agreed.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine how tough things had been for Emma Swan since Henry’s diagnosis had come through. She offered the younger woman a sympathetic smile, before turning her full attention to the lad that was currently sat as close to her son as he could get. The two boys seemed to be playing an impromptu game of snap, that Killian was deliberately letting Henry win. But the giggles that fell from his lips every time her son called out the word and gently pressed his hand down over Henry’s, just that second too late, were worth the small act of deception.

“Hello young man,” she greeted, making her way around to the side of the bed Killian was half-hanging off. “You must be Henry.”

“Hi,” Henry called back. He cocked his head a little as he surveyed the newcomer to the room, and then declared, “You don’t look like Killian.”

Moira chuckled a little at the words, before she dropped down into the seat behind her. “Killian got most of his looks from his dad,” she explained. “I gave mine to his big brother.”

“I’m the better looking one,” Killian stage whispered, which earned him a slap to the back of his head, from his mother. “I just meant that your beauty doesn’t translate onto Liam’s manly figure,” he tried to argue. But the brow Moira cocked in his direction told him that she wasn’t buying his bullshit.

And if Henry and Emma’s giggles were anything to judge by, he knew that they weren’t either.

“How are you feeling?” his mother asked the lad.

“I’m okay,” Henry told her, but his eyes dropped down to watch as he fiddled with the new blanket over his lap, and everyone in the room could tell that was a lie. “I got sick again this morning, but it’s all done now.”

Killian’s heart lurched in his chest at Henry’s whispered words. He wondered how long the little boy had spent vomiting before he’d arrived at the hospital, and how often it had happened to him since he’d been admitted.

“I’m sorry. It’s never nice being sick,” Moira soothed. “Is there anything that makes you feel better that we could get for you?”

Henry shook his head no as he cuddled the new Manchester United branded bear to his chest. “It’s the chemo. But when it passes, I feel fine.” His little face seemed to brighten with his words, almost as if to prove his point, and Killian wrapped an arm around the lad’s shoulders as he offered him an awkward hug.

Emma had gone very quiet at her son’s admission, but a quick look in her direction told the Joneses everything. Her mind was lost in memories of those mornings, holding up Henry as he vomited out everything that he had inside of him, and then some more, until he’d collapse into a shivering heap in her arms. She hated watching him go through that. And she hated even more that there wasn’t a damned thing in the world that she could do to help him.

“How about you and I play another game of snap, and we send your mum and Killian down to the coffee shop to get some sweet treats?” Moira suggested, as she shifted forward a little in her seat. Her look at Killian told him that this wasn’t something that was up for debate, and Henry easily agreed to the plan when his idol suggested bringing back a hot chocolate for the boy.

Emma looked a little less convinced about the whole thing, but Moira’s gentle encouragement of, “You look like you could use some fresh air, Dear,” had her reluctantly standing from her own seat.

“You’ll be okay here with Mrs. Jones?” she asked, as she ran a gentle hand over her son’s head.

“Uhuh,” Henry agreed, his attention already entirely focused on the way the older woman was able to shuffle the deck of cards so effortlessly with one hand. “That was so cool,” he professed. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

“I can certainly try,” she chuckled. “Killian never got the hang of it.”

“Hey,” Killian protested, as he pushed himself up off the bed, and made to move past his mother. Moira was already on her feet, moving her chair a little closer to the bed to make their game easier to play.

“Talk to her,” she whispered, when her son was in earshot. “She needs someone to talk to. Someone who’ll listen.”

Killian nodded his understanding even as he swallowed down the instinct to run away from the entire situation. He didn’t know Emma Swan well, so he wasn’t entirely sure how she’d react to some stranger pushing her into talking to him. But he would try.

Because his mother’s instincts were usually spot on when it came to situations like these.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his arm for Emma to take.

She blushed a little at the old-fashioned gesture, but slipped her arm loosely though his when she noticed her son watching the two of them, and replied with a simple, “We shall,” as Killian guided them from the room and down the hall.


	9. Chapter 8

“So, what can I get you?” Killian asked as he stepped into the Costa that was located on the ground floor of the hospital.

“You don’t need to do this,” Emma protested. “We can just head back up if you want to?”

“Well, I’m getting coffee,” he told her, taking small steps back until he was at the end of the line of people waiting to be served. “If you wanna go up alone, feel free to. But I should probably warn you now that my mother _will_ ask you a ton of invasive questions when she has you alone.”

He watched for a moment as Emma seemed to weigh up her options before she took a small step forward, and then another until she was beside him once more.

“Do you always use your mother as an excuse to get some time alone with women?”

“Only the really pretty ones,” he teased gently, as he winked in her direction.

As much as she tried not to, Emma couldn’t stop herself from blushing a little at his words. She wasn’t blind. Killian Jones was an attractive guy. And while she didn’t know as much about the footballer as her son did, so far, he’d come across as nothing but genuine with his intentions. She knew that he hadn’t paid her a compliment to try and take advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable. But there was still a part of her mind screaming at her for reacting the way she had. Because she also wasn’t stupid. The guy probably had dozens of much better-looking women all around the globe, that he would rather spend his time with.

“What would you like?” he asked when it was finally their turn to place their orders.

“Um… just a latte please?” she asked politely, as she browsed through the menu. She didn’t want to order anything too fancy and spend more of his hard-earned money, given what he’d already bought for Henry that afternoon.

“Are you sure?” he prodded. “You can have anything you want, Swan. I’m not gonna judge you for your choice of coffee.” As if to make his point, Killian turned back to the guy staring slightly slack-jawed at him behind the counter and placed one of the most complicated coffee requests she’d ever heard.

“Can I uh… can I get a hazelnut latte with an extra shot and skimmed milk, please?” she asked when both men turned their attention her way. “Henry should just stick with hot chocolate, though.”

“We’ll grab something for my mam and Henry on the way out,” Killian assured her. “Did you want anything more enjoyable to snack on while we’re here?”

Emma wasn’t really sure where it came from, but the urge to reply, ‘ _yeah, you_ ,’ rang through her mind, and she shook it forcefully to dislodge thoughts of _that_. Now was not the time for her neglected libido to be making itself known, just because he’d called her pretty.

“I’m good, thanks,” she told him instead.

Killian turned his attention back to the guy still staring somewhat dreamily in his direction, and rattled off a list of pastries and sandwiches he wanted to add to their order before he pulled out his wallet to pay for everything. Emma turned away to give him some privacy as he did, but when she turned back, she wasn’t surprised to find their server clutching a pen and an empty bag to his chest.

“Would you uh… would you mind signing this for me, Mr. Jones?” he asked, as he sat it down before his hero. “I’m a huge fan, and _really_ hoping we take back the title this year.”

“Me too,” Killian chuckled. “It’ll make my life a hell of a lot easier if we do.” He took the pen that had been placed in front of him and quickly glanced up to the badge the other man was wearing, before he bent his head to begin scribbling across the page. When he was finished, he pushed both items back in the direction of their new owner, and then offered his hand for shaking. “It was lovely to meet you, Adam.”

“You too,” Adam gushed, as he handed over the last of their order. “Thanks, Mr. Jones.”

“Do you get that often?” Emma wondered, as she followed him over to one of the small tables at the back of the room.

“Occupational hazard. But it’s not so bad. It’s the City supporters that _despise_ you that are the worst. You really have to watch what you’re doing, and what they’re doing, in those circumstances.”

“Really?” she worried, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “Why?”

“I’ve had people try and trip me before, to stop me playing in the next few games. Someone once spiked my drink, and I caught a waiter spitting in my food too. Football is truly a beautiful game, but some fans take it just that little bit too far, you know? Like I love my club, and I have a lot of loyalty to them. But not enough for me to want to cause physical harm to someone else.”

“Damn. I never realised football got so violent,” Emma mused, as she sipped at her drink.

“You’ve clearly been watching the wrong games,” Killian teased gently, laughing along with her.

When they both quietened back down he allowed a comfortable silence to settle around them as he demolished one of the sandwiches he’d bought, and a muffin, while Emma watched on in quiet fascination.

“I burn a lot of calories,” he explained, shrugging it off easily as he reached for another. “So uh… does… does Henry get sick often?”

The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift instantly, and Killian could almost see the way Emma Swan’s walls descended along with it. She went from looking relaxed and carefree to tense and closed-off in a matter of seconds. And he kicked himself a little for causing it.

“It’s the chemo,” she told him, matter-of-factly. “They’ve been trying some anti-sickness meds to help with it, but every now and then he has a particularly bad reaction and they don’t seem to work. It’s not as often as it used to be, though.”

“That’s one good thing, I suppose.”

“Yeah. And it doesn’t seem to bother Henry too much once it’s over.” Emma didn’t need to add how much it bothered her. Killian could see that in the haunted look lingering behind her eyes.

“How much longer does he have on this round?” he asked instead, because he’d definitely done some Googling after first meeting Henry and Emma Swan. But his knowledge on the subject was still fairly limited.

“One more week for this cycle. But if we can’t find him a donor anytime soon, then he’ll be back on it again in a few weeks.”

Killian wiped his palms across the leg of his jeans before he reached out to cover the hand that wasn’t on Emma’s coffee cup with his own. “Hopefully it won’t come to that,” he told her. “We should be getting our test results back soon. And the club already has a statement to release if none of us is a match. I’m sure we’ll find him a donor, Emma. Even if we have to fly one into the country for it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered back, before biting down on her tongue to stop her tears. Emma wasn’t as confident in their success as Killian appeared to be, but she appreciated that he wasn’t giving up hope on finding them one just yet.

Because if Henry had any chance of surviving this, she knew that hope was the one thing they all needed to cling onto. For as long as they possibly could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As a small note, I feel like I should point out that not all City supporters are as bad as Killian says in this chapter. Those are just some examples of the more extreme behavior footballers have reported.**


	10. Chapter 9

“So, when do you need me?” Killian asked, as he balled up the last of the packaging from his snacks and threw it into the nearest bin.

“Excuse me?”

“To sit with Henry. When do you need me?”

“Oh.” Emma’s mind had gone somewhere completely inappropriate at his words, but she honestly hadn’t expected him to be serious about that offer.

“Weekends are tough for me, obviously. And if possible, afternoons are better than mornings, as the Gaffer won’t appreciate me skipping out on training every few days. But if you really need me first thing in the morning, I can certainly make an exception. We also have Champions League group games coming up, so I’ll be flying around Europe for those, mid-week. And we occasionally have mid-week league games too.” He paused for a moment to draw a breath and then chuckled a little bitterly. “Wow. Hearing that back makes me sound like such a diva.”

“It’s fine,” Emma assured him. “I get that you already have responsibilities in your life. My parents are the same. They try and spend as much time here with Henry as they can, but Mum’s a teacher and Dad’s a cop. So their schedules aren’t as flexible as they wish they could be. Just uh… just having you make the offer means the world to me.”

“You still have my number, right? You can always call when you need me. And our game this week is on Sunday, so I could come by Friday afternoon and let you get some stuff done?”

“That uh… that would be great. Henry would love to see you again.”

“Then it’s a date,” he promised, pushing himself up to his feet. “I’m gonna go and order for the lad and my mam, did you want anything else?”

“I’m good. I’m just gonna run to the bathroom, though.”

Killian nodded to show that he’d heard her, and Emma made her escape. She’d been visiting the hospital long enough to know where all of the bathrooms were now, so instead of heading for the ones directly opposite the coffee shop, she made the short walk down the corridor to the ones close to phlebotomy. They were hardly ever used, so were always better smelling than the alternative.

Once inside the small room, Emma locked the door behind herself and used the silence and privacy of the moment to draw in a few deep breaths. Ever since the entire team had shown up in Henry’s room, things had seemed so surreal for her. She had never dreamed that anyone would bother reading her email, let alone act upon it. And yet here she was, having coffee with someone Henry swore was the best footballer in the world, while his mother sat with her son.

It was another moment to add to the long list of surreal ones that had happened, since Henry’s diagnosis.

After using the facilities, she took a moment to freshen herself up. Emma wasn’t stupid, she could see the bags under her eyes, barely concealed by her foundation. Her hair seemed to have lost all of its usual luster and volume, which was why she’d found herself scraping it back into a ponytail most mornings. And she knew she’d lost a lot of weight over the past few months too. Her clothes now hung off her in an unflattering way, but she didn’t exactly have the time to go shopping for new ones.

Standing next to Killian Jones, who somehow managed to make an Addidas tracksuit look like designer wear, she was sure she looked even worse. But both his mother and the man himself had been far too kind to comment on it.

Sighing a little at her reflection she reached for the door once more and flicked the lock so that she could pull it open. Emma startled a little at the sight of the man leaning casually against the wall opposite, but smiled when he offered her a soft one of his own. She wasn’t sure why Killian had taken such an interest in herself and Henry, but she genuinely appreciated all that he was doing for them.

“I saw you headed this way and figured I’d find a bathroom before I ended up completely lost,” he explained, as he fell into step beside her while they made their way back up to Henry’s ward.

“Yeah. The toilets down here are much nicer than the ones round by the café.”

Killian screwed up his face in disgust at the mental image Emma was painting for him but didn’t say anything. He could tell that her mind was somewhere else, and he didn’t want to annoy her with small talk while she was lost in her thoughts. He’d wait for her to break the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of them.

“So, uh… who are you playing this weekend?” she eventually asked.

“City. It’s the big Manchester derby. I’m surprised your lad hasn’t said anything about it to you.”

“Oh, he probably has. I tend to tune the football talk out after a while,” she admitted reluctantly. The last thing Emma wanted to do was offend the guy who had been offering to help her. But she also didn’t want to lie to him either.

“You should meet my brother. He does the same thing.” Killian chuckled to show that there were no hard feelings, but his face hardened a little when Emma replied with, “Maybe one day.” He suddenly found himself wanting to keep her and Henry as far away from his older brother as he could get them, and Killian wasn’t entirely sure why. They weren’t _his_ in any sense of the word. And if Liam could provide another source of comfort to the two of them, then he shouldn’t be the one to deny them that.

But he couldn’t ignore the sour taste left in his mouth when he thought of his brother connecting with Emma, over their dislike of something he was so passionate about.

“Do you uh… do you think you’ll watch the game now that you’ve met most of the team?”

“I doubt it. My dad usually comes over to watch the games with Henry, and with the two of them crowded around the tablet, there isn’t really much space for me. I’ll probably just come back down to Costa with my mum for a while.”

Killian nodded his head in understanding, but the idea of Emma not getting to watch him play left him feeling a little disappointed. He knew he was good at what he did, and games like the Manchester derby gave him the perfect opportunity to show that off. He just wished that Emma Swan would be able to see it.

“Well, when Henry’s back on his feet and out of that bed, we’ll make sure you guys all get to see a few games together,” he promised her.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I wish I could take credit for this, but it wasn’t my idea,” he assured her. “Gold’s been talking with our investors about it. When Henry’s recovered, he wants to give you guys access to one of our private lounges for at least a season.”

Emma stopped walking for a moment as she turned to face the man at her side. She might not have been a big fan of the game, but she had booked enough tickets to know how much private VIP packages sold for.

“Gold wanted it to be a lifetime pass,” Killian continued, not having realised that his companion was no longer at his side, but instead staring at him with a slack jaw and wide eyes. “The investors are a little reluctant to go that far, given how young Henry is. I think he’s trying to compromise with like ten to fifteen years.”

“Fif… fifteen years?” she croaked out.

Killian finally turned to look her way and startled a little at just how far behind she’d fallen. “Don’t worry, Emma. It wouldn’t cost the club much, and it’ll be good publicity for them. But don’t tell him I told you about it. Gold wants it to be a surprise for Henry.” A worried look crossed Killian’s face for a moment before it evened out once more. “I swear that man tortured people during the medieval times in a past life.”

At the look of horror that crossed Emma’s own features, Killian rushed to add, “Squats. He’ll make me do squats. Hundreds of them. And he’ll stand and watch to make sure I do them all.”


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry for the delay with this one. Unfortunately, I had some technical troubles that left me unable to use my laptop for over a week.**

“So, Emma’s pretty,” Moira stated, as she slid into Killian’s car later that afternoon.

She’d enjoyed her own coffee while Henry had sipped at his hot chocolate and torn into a couple of doughnuts. But the young boy had started yawning before he could finish his drink, and they’d both felt it was only polite to leave so that he could get some rest. Henry hadn’t let either of them go without awkward hugs to avoid the wires taped to his body, and a promise that they’d be back to see him soon. A promise that Moira and Killian both easily made, and fully intended to keep.

“Yes, she is.” Her son’s tone gave nothing away, and if anyone else had been in the car with them, they could have been forgiven for believing that he was more focused on the road than the topic of conversation at hand.

But Moira knew him better.

“She could use a night out, don’t you think? The poor girl probably hasn’t had one in years.”

“Seriously, Ma?” Killian scoffed, as he finally pulled his eyes away from the window screen to flick an annoyed glare in her direction before he turned back to focus on the road. “Her son’s lying in a hospital bed with a deadly disease that’s slowly killing him. I’m pretty sure dating is at the bottom of Emma’s list of priorities right now.”

“Don’t be so morbid, Killian. People are helping. Henry will find a donor,” she snapped back. Her tone told him that there was absolutely no room for argument in that statement, but it wasn’t necessary. Killian had no intention of arguing with her beliefs because while he didn’t know the family well, the idea of something happening to Henry had him blinking back the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“And I wasn’t suggesting a date,” she continued, a little calmer. “I was merely suggesting some time away from everything to just let her hair down and relax for a bit. _You’re_ the one with dating on your mind.”

Of course she’d turned that around on him. He should have seen that one coming.

“I don’t have dating on my mind, Ma. I just wanna help Henry and Emma as best I can. That’s all.”

Moira said nothing else, but Killian could tell from the look on her face that this certainly wasn’t the end of that discussion.

* * *

When he had finished training on Friday afternoon, Killian stopped off at the best bakery in the city, before he made the drive over to the Royal Manchester Children’s Hospital. He knew that Emma usually brought back lunch for Henry, so he didn’t want to step on her toes in that respect. But he figured the boxes of doughnuts would be a nice middle ground, and a great way to treat everyone else on the ward.

After all, who didn’t like doughnuts?

But when he knocked on the familiar door to Henry’s room and poked his head around the doorframe, the sight of the unoccupied space made him freeze in his tracks.

“Are you lost?”

Killian pulled his eyes away from the empty bed to focus on the woman who was sat at the small table near the window, knitting something that looked like a scarf.

“I’m looking for Henry Swan.”

“They have a children’s entertainer come into the hospital every Friday. Belle took him down to see the show while he was feeling up to it. They should be back soon.”

“Oh, thank god,” he mumbled, as he made his way into the room and sat one of the boxes of treats down onto the table over Henry’s bed. When his hands were free he gently wiped them over the jeans he’d changed into, before extending one in the older woman’s direction. “I’m Killian.”

“Mary-Margaret,” she replied, returning his shake firmly. “I’m Emma’s mother.”

“Of course. You’re a teacher, right? She’s mentioned you before.”

“Most days, yes,” she chuckled. “I’ve traded my teaching hat for the day to sit with Henry. Emma’s a little under the weather and she didn’t want him to be alone this morning.”

“Oh no. Is she okay?” Killian dropped down into the seat next to Henry’s bed and propped his chin into his left hand.

“She got a little sick last night. It’s probably nothing serious, but Henry has a severely weakened immune system. So it’s better for her to be at home and away from him until it passes.”

“Jesus, I never even thought about that,” he muttered. Killian was generally a pretty healthy person. His training regimen and strict diet helped in that respect. But he’d remember to make sure that he stayed away from Henry if he even so much as sneezed from that moment on. “It must kill her being away from her lad,” he added, as a quiet afterthought.

“It’s certainly not easy. But it’s better than the alternative.”

Killian raised his eyes to meet Mary-Margaret’s and nodded his agreement. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he were the reason Henry got sicker, so he could certainly understand why Emma had chosen to stay away.

“Is there uh… can I do anything for her? I um… we have an excellent team of doctors if she needs to see anyone? Or I could send her some soup or something so she doesn’t have to worry about cooking while she’s feeling unwell?”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” her mother assured him. “Thank you for the offers. Emma said that you were a sweet guy, but I have to admit that I had my doubts.”

Killian raised a brow in question and she huffed out a chuckle, before finally dropping her knitting project down to the tabletop.

“My husband’s been a football fan for as long as I’ve known him,” she explained. “And as a police officer in this city…”

“He’s policed game days before,” Killian supplied for her. Because of course he had. Why hadn’t he put that information together when Emma had first told him about her parents?

“Yes. And as such, he’s been privy to a few different incidents over the years. Around half of them are either initiated by player conduct on the pitch or exacerbated by it. So when she said that you were offering to spend time with Henry, I was a little sceptical about your motives.”

“I can assure you, Mrs. Swan, my motives are nothing but genuine.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

A slight commotion out in the hallway drew their attention over to the open door, and Killian’s smile widened when Henry was pushed through it and into his room by a vaguely familiar looking nurse. The young boy was in a wheelchair, with all of his usual wires and tubes attached to large poles on either side of the back of his seat. But he was wearing one of the United training shirts that Killian had nabbed for him earlier that week, with the number ten and SWAN printed onto it in the official font for the season. And tucked around his legs was the red crested blanket.

“Hey, Lad. How was your morning?” Killian asked, as he stood and pushed his own seat back a little to let the nurse get as close to Henry’s bed as she could. She took the blanket from his lap and draped it over the table, but Killian had his own hands extended to help Henry from his wheelchair before she could.

“It was good,” he said, as he allowed his idol to pull him up to his feet. Killian kept a tight grip on his arms as Henry shuffled his way over to the bed, and then pulled himself up and into the middle of it.

Belle could tell when she wasn’t needed, and called out a cheery, “see you later, Henry,” before she left room to let his grandmother tuck the sheets around him once more, as a premier league footballer helped position his pillows for him.

“They had a magician this time. But he wasn’t as good as Dynamo.”

Killian chuckled as he took a seat at the end of Henry’s bed. “I’ll tell him you said that the next time I see him.”

“You know Dynamo?” Henry asked, his eyes widening with his surprise.

“Of course. Who doesn’t?”

“Mum doesn’t like him. She says he freaks her out.”

“That’s only because he’s so good at what he does.” Killian winked conspiratorially, and Henry started giggling. “I’ll take you to see one of his show when you’re feeling better,” he promised. “Maybe we could change your mother’s mind if she sees his work in person?”

“Definitely!”

Neither of the men in the room noticed as Mary-Margaret slipped her knitting back into her bag and picked up her jacket from the back of her seat. She could also tell when she wasn’t needed, so she wanted to slip away and check on her daughter, while Henry was distracted. As Killian told her grandson about how training for the Manchester derby was going that weekend, she made her way over to the door and threw a casual, “I’ll be back in a few hours, Henry,” over her shoulder.

But she wasn’t entirely sure either of the guys had heard what she’d said.


	12. Chapter 11

“Morning, Emma. How are you feeling today?” Belle asked, as Henry’s mother was buzzed into the unit.

“Much better, thanks.” Emma hadn’t vomited since Thursday evening, but she’d stayed away from the hospital and it’s high-risk patients on Saturday too, just to make certain that whatever virus she’d caught was out of her system. She hated being away from her son, but the last thing she wanted to do was infect him with an illness that could end up killing him, thanks to his weakened immune system.

“How’s Henry?”

“Oh, he’s fine. He’s been spoiled with attention while you’ve been gone. The footballer stayed until we had to kick him out on Friday evening, but he bought dinner for everyone on the ward, including the nurses, so nobody complained too much. And both of your parents were here all day yesterday to keep him busy.”

Emma shook her head fondly at Belle’s revelation. She’d spoken to Henry on the phone each night that she’d been gone, but her son had neglected to mention just how long Killian had stayed with him.

(And so had her mother, which wasn’t like the Mary-Margaret Swan that she knew and loved.)

“Thanks, Belle.” Emma offered the other woman a small smile before setting off down the corridor to head for Henry’s room. She wasn’t surprised to find both of her parents already comfortable inside of it. Her mother was sat at the small table by the window knitting a new scarf for a friend of hers, while David was perched on the bed beside his grandson, already talking about the day’s football games.

“Mum!” Henry declared excitedly, as he saw her step into the room. “How are you feeling? Did you get our flowers? I wasn’t sure if I remembered our address right.”

“I did, thank you.” Emma slipped her arms out of her jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before she pressed a kiss to the top of her son’s head.

On Saturday morning a knock had sounded on her front door, and she had answered wondering who the hell could be looking for her. Emma wasn’t expecting to see a delivery driver holding a large bouquet of colourful flowers, so she’d burst into tears at the sight of them. After awkwardly signing for her delivery she’d taken them inside to stand on the coffee table, and picked out the small card sat in the middle of the bunch to read the inscription written upon it.

**We hope you feel better soon.**   
**We miss you.**   
**Love,**   
**Henry and Killian.**   
**X**

She’d cried some more at Killian and Henry’s thoughtful gesture. Emma couldn’t remember the last time someone other than her parents or her son had cared enough to tell her to feel better. And nobody had ever bought her flowers before.

But that hadn’t been her only delivery of the weekend. A little after midday another knock had sounded and she’d pulled open the door to find a different delivery driver stood on the other side, holding a large box for her to take. After shifting it into her arms she’d offered him a thanks and then kicked the door closed on her way back to the lounge.

Emma had to push aside the bouquet of flowers to set the box down on her coffee table so that she could open it. Inside, she’d found a few large containers filled with some of the best soup she’d ever had. One was a chicken noodle that she’d warmed through and eaten immediately, and the other a simple tomato soup that she’d stood in the fridge to have later that evening. There were a couple of packs of tinned ginger ale down one side of the box, along with some bottles of sports drinks and a few large bunches of bananas. But what was quite possibly the best gift she’d ever received was hidden under the food and in a separate bag.

As Emma had shaken out the large, grey, fluffy blanket to tuck around her legs, a small envelope had fallen onto the floor at her feet. After sitting her empty soup bowl aside she’d leaned down to pick it up, before eagerly tearing into the paper. Inside was a simple ‘get well soon’ card, and a one-hundred pound Costa gift card.

**Try and take it easy while you feel sick. Henry’s in good hands. The soup is some of the best in the city, for when you feel up to eating again, and the Gaffer swears that bananas are fantastic for an upset tummy. Mam’s the one who suggested the ginger ale, and the sports drinks are to help you stay hydrated when you finish vomiting.**

**The gift card is for when you feel better ;-)**

**I’ll stop by the hospital on Monday afternoon when I finish training to see Henry. Hopefully, you’ll be there too.**

**All the best,**

**K.**

It was one of the sweetest gestures anyone had ever made for her, and Emma had cried some more as she’d eaten one of the bananas and then curled up under her new blanket to get some sleep.

“Did you see what Killian sent us?”

“Huh?” Emma asked, as her son pulled her out of her memories and back to the present.

Henry nodded his head to the flat screen television on the wall, but it took Emma a moment to notice the little box that had been connected to it.

“What the hell is that?”

“It says it’s some kind of streaming box,” her father replied, as he pointed to the discarded packaging that now sat by the window, waiting to be recycled. “It’s so that we can watch the game in slightly better quality than your tablet offers.”

“And it just happens to let someone else watch it with you,” Mary-Margaret mumbled, even as she kept her eyes trained on the knitting needles in her hands.

Emma shot her mother a curious look but nobody seemed in a hurry to explain things to her, so she tried her best to shrug it off as she took her place beside Henry’s bed.

“So… when does this game start?” she asked, reaching into her bag to pull out the tubs of popcorn that she’d brought with her.

“One o’clock, Mum,” Henry said, like it was common knowledge to everyone else in the world. Emma chuckled at his antics as she reached for the brand new remote control that sat on the table in front of him.

“That’s hours away. I guess that means I can catch up on EastEnders while you guys wait for the match to start?”

David and Henry both yelled their objections to that plan far louder than either of them should have, considering they were in a high-dependency unit in a children’s hospital. But Emma couldn’t bring herself to shush them. It had been years since she’d seen her son as happy and lively as he was that afternoon.


	13. Chapter 12

“So, which one’s Killian?”

“None of them,” Henry replied, throwing his mother an exasperated look. “United play in red.”

“I know that, but don’t they also play in other colours too?” Emma was pretty sure she’d seen that somewhere before. She just wasn’t sure when, or where.

“Only when they’re away from home, and playing another team that also has a red home strip,” her father replied patiently. David knew that he’d definitely explained this before, but his daughter obviously hadn’t been paying attention at the time.

“Like Liverpool,” Henry supplied helpfully. “Or Arsenal.”

“Okay. Away kits when playing a team in red. Got it.”

Grandfather and grandson shared an amused look that said neither of them thought Emma would remember the crash course in football she was being given again that afternoon, but at least she seemed to be taking an interest in the game, unlike her mother.

When the United team finally started filling the tunnel beside the City players, it didn’t take long for Emma to spot Henry’s new best friend. Killian Jones was right at the front of the team, talking away animatedly to the young boy that was clinging to his hand for dear life. She was pretty sure the kid wasn’t listening to a word his idol was saying, but it beat the awkward stillness she saw between some of the other players and the children stood by their sides.

“So, why are the kids there too?” her mother asked, as she looked up from the scarf she’d almost finished knitting to scan the television screen, before turning her attention back down to her needles.

“They’re club mascots,” David chuckled. “They’re not there to join the game.”

“That’s a shame. They’d probably be better at it than the professionals,” his wife snarked back.

Emma hid her chuckles in the latte she’d treated herself to earlier that day with the gift card Killian had bought for her, as her son covered his with some truly awful fake coughs. While Henry and David had managed to talk Emma into joining them for the odd game at Old Trafford, Mary-Margaret had always refused. The phrase, _‘I’d rather gouge my eyes out with rusty spoons’_ had been used on more than one occasion, so Emma was surprised that her mother hadn’t yet found an excuse to escape from the room for the next ninety minutes.

When the players started leaving the tunnel to make their way out onto the pitch, Emma could sense the change in the two men to her left. Henry and David both seemed to shuffle forwards in their seats, anticipation already gripping them both. Mary-Margaret rolled her eyes at their antics before turning her attention back down to her knitting needles, but Emma kept her gaze fixed on the small television screen.

After going through the usual pre-game rituals of hand-shaking and pennant exchanges, the teams took their positions on the field, and Emma did her best to follow the large number 10 on the back of Killian’s shirt as he made his way around the pitch. It wasn’t easy, though. The moment the whistle blew to start the game the men on the field were a blur of sky blue and red as they ran up and down the pitch. She had no idea how her father and son seemed to be able to keep up with it all.

If Emma were being completely honest with herself, the first fifteen minutes of the game didn’t do much to hold her attention, and she found herself scrolling through Facebook on more than one occasion. It was only when she heard the commentators mention Jones that she found her head snapping up to watch just as the ball went sailing over to the other side of the pitch. The cameras zoomed in on Killian as he lifted his leg to bring it down and under his control, before his head shot up to take in the players around him, and their positions on the field.

“Yes,” David praised, watching intently as Killian began to run. He was weaving in and out of the space that was being rapidly closed by a number of sky-blue shirts while he headed ever closer to the goal.

Instead of trying to score as she’d expected, Killian’s head came up once more to watch as… _someone else in red_ … made a run into the penalty box, and he sent the ball sailing across the pitch, aiming for the space his teammate was running into. The other guy – Walsh if Henry’s commentary was anything to go by – jumped. His head connected with the side of the ball to send it sailing into the top of the net, and the crowd in the stadium went wild.

Emma watched with fond amusement as Henry and David both cheered loudly and hugged each other tightly while they chanted, “Walsh, Walsh, Walsh,” before she turned back to see the celebrations taking place on screen.

Apparently, professional footballers celebrated their goals by jumping all over each other like children on a playground.

“Did someone score?” Mary-Margaret asked sweetly.

“We did, Grandma!”

“Well, that’s excellent news. Hopefully that means your grandpa won’t be too moody when we leave here tonight.”

“Hey!” David protested. But he didn’t try to deny the accusation. Everyone in the room knew how the outcome of a game could affect his mood. Especially on a derby day.

“Killian did real great, Grandma. He set up the goal and it was incredible. I can’t wait to ask him how hard it was to control that ball when I see him on Monday.”

“When am I gonna get to meet this guy?” David asked.

Emma tried not to laugh at how her father was pouting over the fact that his grandson, daughter, and wife had all met one of his club idols, and he hadn’t. But it really was a ridiculous look on a man of his age.

“You should come when you finish work on Monday,” Henry told him. “Killian won’t mind staying late. He was here until ten the other night.”

“Ten?” Emma gasped, as she turned to face her son who had suddenly gone red in the face. “Visiting hours finish at _eight_. How the hell did you manage to keep him here until ten?”

“I dunno. I guess the nurses must like him.”

“I bet they do,” she mumbled quietly, as she turned her attention back to the TV. Henry seemed to relax further into the bed as she did, believing that he’d gotten away with that little slip-up. Until his mother added, “I think we’re gonna need to have a conversation with Mr. Jones about your bedtime when he gets here on Monday.”

“Oh, Mum! Do we have to?”

The look she threw back to Henry told him that they were _definitely_ having a bedtime conversation when they next saw Killian, no matter how much he protested that decision.

“Ugh, she’s so embarrassing,” he whispered quietly to his grandfather.

David wrapped his arm around his grandson’s slim shoulders and pulled the young boy in a little closer as he whispered back, “She’s your mother. It’s her job to embarrass you in front of your idols.”

Henry considered that statement for a moment before he turned eyes sparkling with mischief up to his grandfather to ask, “Does that mean it’s your job to embarrass her too?”

“Of course!”

* * *

When the game finished a little over an hour later it was with a three-nil win for Manchester United. While Killian hadn’t scored any of the goals himself, he’d seemed to be instrumental to the team’s success that day, and Henry and David couldn’t stop raving about the team’s performance.

Emma hadn’t been as engrossed in the game as her father and son had been that afternoon, but she didn’t miss a word of what was said when Killian gave a post-match interview for the network after leaving the pitch.

Not that she would ever admit to that.


	14. Chapter 13

“Good afternoon, Swans!”

“Hey, Killian,” Henry greeted excitedly. “How was your training session?”

Killian took a moment to set down the handful of drinks that he’d brought up to the ward with him before he answered Henry’s question. “Brutal! Have you ever tried swimming with weights pulling you down? I don’t recommend it.” He passed the young lad a small cup of hot chocolate before holding out a coffee to Emma, who had so far been silent since his arrival. “How are you feeling?” he asked, when she reached out to take the drink from him.

“Much better, thank you. And uh… thanks for everything you did last week. It was really sweet of you.”

Killian brought his right hand up to scratch adorably behind his ear as he told her, “we just wanted you to know that you were missed. Didn’t we, Lad?”

Henry looked like he was paying absolutely no attention to what the grownups in the room were saying, but when he heard his name he uttered an, “uh… yeah?” before diving into the subject that he’d been most eager to talk about. “You were _incredible_ on Sunday, Killian. I can’t believe they didn’t give you man of the match.”

Emma was surprised her son had managed to wait so long to get that out. He’d been counting down the hours until it was officially ‘afternoon’ since she’d arrived at the hospital that morning.

“Well, Walsh did score twice for us so I can see why he got it,” Killian argued, taking a seat beside Henry’s bed as he reached for his own cup of coffee.

“Yeah, but you set up two of the goals _and_ you held the midfield up strongly. Grandpa says Walsh is just a goal-hanger and gets too much credit for being in the right place at the right time. Some of the time.”

Emma snorted into her paper cup as she watched Killian’s eyes widen comically. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that kind of analysis from his new best friend, and she could almost see his mind racing as he attempted to work out how best to word his reply without throwing one of his teammates under the bus.

“Well… Walsh’s job is technically to score the goals.”

“Yeah, but your job is to maintain the left wing and you don’t just hang around over there. You get back behind the ball if you’re needed. And I’m pretty sure you’ve never been offside as much as he has.”

Killian threw Emma a look that screamed _help_ , and she tried her best to keep her face straight as she asked, “what is all this offside business? I never really understood that one.”

“How long do you have?” he asked, raising a cheeky brow in her direction.

Emma flushed a little under his attention and turned her eyes down to the paper cup between her hands.

“In its simplest form; if I were in the opposition’s half of the pitch and I was about to receive the ball from one of my own teammates, in order to be considered onside I need to keep my head, body, and feet behind an invisible line created by the second defender.”

Emma knew that her face reflected her confusion at that moment as Killian chuckled a little at the expression she was wearing. He took a quick sip from his coffee cup before setting it down on the small cabinet beside his chair and then pushed himself to his feet. Emma’s eyes widened as she watched him move easily around Henry’s bed to take a seat in the chair opposite her, at the small table by the window.

“Okay,” he announced, as he took a quick look around the room and snatched up Henry’s tablet and two plastic bottles. “ _This_ will be our goal,” he explained, sitting the tablet in front of Emma. “Fanta bottle here is our first defender. He’s the guy that hangs back as close to the goal as he possibly can at all time’s as a last line of defence before the goalkeeper. Evian is our second defender. He’s not quite all the way back, but he rarely ventures past the halfway line.”

He lifted his head to meet Emma’s eyes, making sure she was still with him before he reached into his pocket for his phone. “This is me, coming forward because we have the ball and we’re obviously trying to push it up the field to score.” Killian set his phone down on the table so that it was just behind the point where the Fanta bottle ended, and explained, “Here, I’m onside. All of my body parts are behind an invisible line drawn across the pitch at the point where our Fanta bottle is standing. So as long as I stay in this position when my teammate touches the ball to send it my way, I’m onside. If I make my run just a second too soon and my leg ends up past this line when the ball is touched, then I’m offside. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” The look on Emma’s face told both Killian and Henry that the footballer’s little demonstration had gone completely over her head. “But isn’t that a little unfair? I mean, how are you supposed to keep your eye on the people around you _and_ on the ball too?”

“That’s part of the game,” he chuckled. “Sometimes we end up offside and haven’t realised it. But if we’re good at our jobs, then we should be able to keep those factors in mind before we move. Football isn’t just about athleticism, it’s about tactics and teamwork too.”

“Huh. I guess I’ve never thought about it that way before.”

Emma didn’t voice what was going through her mind at that moment, but she didn’t really need to. Killian and Henry both knew that the next game she saw she’d be watching with a new outlook on the sport. And Killian was more than a little proud of himself for being the person to change her view of the game, even if it was only a minor change.

“Did you um… did you happen to see any of the match yesterday?” he asked, as he busied himself with slipping his phone back into his pocket a little more carefully than he normally would.

“A bit. I’m ah… I’m a little ashamed to admit that I wasn’t hooked on it the way that Henry and my father were.”

“She was on Facebook,” Henry helpfully supplied, even as his mother shot him a look that told him to stay quiet.

“But I saw you set up that first goal, and uh… I saw your interview after the game. You were very gracious towards your fellow teammates.”

“Thank you. It really was a team effort, though. If you ever have the misfortune of seeing us play with ten men, you’ll get that. Losing one person puts a lot of stress on the rest of the team.”

“Well… I hope I won’t get to see that anytime soon.” Emma lifted her head to offer Killian a shy smile. It was one that said she was planning to watch United’s next game with her son, even if she didn’t love the sport the way that Henry did.

Killian returned her smile with one of his own, happy to know that although Emma and Henry couldn’t be in the stadium with him for luck, they’d at least be watching the match and hoping for a win.


	15. Chapter 14

David wasn’t ashamed to admit that when he walked into the hospital on Monday evening, he almost walked straight past his daughter. Normally, she was glued to Henry’s side, and only work and business hours would force her to leave her son. So he certainly wasn’t expecting to find her in line at Costa, waiting on a coffee order.

“Emma?” he called out tentatively, because he still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t seeing things.

“Oh, hey Dad! Do you want a coffee?” she asked, as she spun from the counter to face her father.

“Uh… sure.” David shrugged his shoulders and made his way through the small selection of tables to stand beside Emma, who had already asked the barista for his usual. Father and daughter stood in silence as the rest of their order was gathered and handed over until the barista behind the counter delivered their total. “I’ll get this,” David offered, because Costa was expensive at the best of times. Inside a hospital, they seemed to double their prices.

“It’s fine,” Emma assured him, waving away his offer. “It’s on Killian.” She showed her dad the small gift card that had been hidden in her left hand while she’d been waiting, before handing it over to their barista. As it was scanned, Emma started handing bags of food and trays of cups to her father, before she took the small piece of plastic back and picked up the last of their order.

“Jesus, Ems. How much food did you want?” he chuckled, peering into one of the bags as his daughter offered their server a smile and thanks.

“It’s not for me, it’s for Killian. He eats a lot of food.”

David laughed a little at that observation as he followed her through the corridors and into an elevator. The journey up to Henry’s ward was a familiar one, and one that he hated knowing so well. No parent (or grandparent) should ever have to make that trip in their lifetime, but David did it every week without fail. And every time he did, he prayed to any God that was listening that it would be his last.

“So uh… the footballer’s still here?” he asked casually, as they stepped out of the carriage and began navigating more of the hospital’s bland corridors.

“He’s been here since one o’clock,” Emma chuckled. “He and Henry are glued at the hip these days. Literally. They were drawing when I left them to get drinks, but so far today they’ve also FaceTimed half of his teammates, watched a video Killian made for Henry of Old Trafford, watched a movie, read a book together, and taken a nap.”

“Wow. He uh… he doesn’t do things in half measures, does he?”

“Nope. He um… he seems to genuinely care for Henry,” Emma whispered quietly. It was such a beautiful thing for her to see. With Henry being so sick, he’d missed his entry to school and with it, he’d missed out on the process of making new friends. Most of the friends her son had were all in critical conditions themselves, and he’d been forced to say goodbye to a few of those already. Seeing Henry light up every time Killian came to visit often left Emma in tears at the end of every evening because she had honestly never expected that from someone like Killian Jones.

“Well, it’s nice to see him making an effort,” David praised. He’d encountered far too many footballers in the city who didn’t seem to share the same mentality, and they were certainly nowhere near as famous as Henry’s new friend.

“You mean like you have?” Emma teased. David threw his daughter a look asking her to explain that statement and her chuckles turned to full-blown giggles. “You’re wearing your best jeans and shirt. You only _ever_ wear that shirt when mum makes you go somewhere fancy.”

David spluttered a little as he tried to word his argument and eventually settled on, “it was the only clean shirt I had left.”

“Bullshit! You live with mum. _All_ of your shirts are clean,” she snorted, as she turned into the doorway of her son’s room and froze a little at whatever sight greeted her there. “Killian! You didn’t need to do this.”

David was only puzzled for a brief moment before Emma moved further into the room and allowed him a clear view of the trays of food waiting for their arrival. He wasn’t sure what each one contained, but every step he took brought him closer and closer to a mouthwatering scent.

“This was more selfish than it looks,” the young man protested, and David almost swallowed his tongue. That was definitely Killian Jones sat beside his grandson’s bed, looking slightly sheepish at the reprimand his daughter was giving to him. “I have a strict diet that I need to follow, so I can’t really miss meals like most people can.”

“Uhuh. And the last time you were here and missed a meal, that didn’t count? Or the time before that?” she challenged.

“Those are _exactly_ why I ordered. I’m just following the Gaffer’s instructions. I promise.” Jones’s arguments were falling flat, thanks to the little boy sat next to him giggling away like mad, undermining every word he spoke.

“And did the Gaffer tell you to feed us all too?” Emma asked, propping her hands onto her hips.

“Lord, no. That was my mam. Do you have any idea what she’d do to me if she found out that I’d ordered food for myself and not for you guys?” Killian shivered a little at whatever thought was passing through his mind and Henry lost any sense of control at the sight of it.

“Your mum’s not _that_ scary,” the young boy protested around his giggles.

“That’s because she likes you. Just wait until she sees me doing something dumb! I swear, she’s scarier than the Green Goblin in that situation.”

“I’m gonna tell Moira that you compared her to the Green Goblin when I see her again,” Emma taunted, as she took a seat at the small table by the window and peeled off the lid on the foil tray sat in front of her.

“God, please don’t.” Killian seemed to visibly pale at the mere thought of what his mother would say and Henry’s giggles started again, loud and boyish. David couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Henry laugh like that before, and he had to bite down hard on his tongue to stop his own eyes from watering at the thought.

“Oh, Dad… this is Killian. Killian, my father, David Swan,” Emma introduced, waving a hand between the two men.

Killian had only just seemed to realise that there was someone new in the room as he quickly abandoned his own food and stood from his seat to offer David his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

David floundered for a moment before setting the drinks he was carrying down onto the nearest flat surface to accept the greeting. “You too,” he replied on autopilot, still somewhat stunned by the entire scene that he’d just witnessed.

“Henry chose your food for you, so blame him if it’s wrong,” Killian explained, throwing a conspiratorial look behind himself at the young boy still laughing on the bed.

“I’m sure it’s not,” David chuckled, as he made his way around the room to offer his grandson a hug and a kiss. He slipped off his coat and hung it over the back of the only free seat in the room, before reaching for the foil tray sat on the table waiting for him. “But if this is what I think it might be, I’m gonna be blaming _you_ when my wife starts moaning about my cholesterol levels.”

Killian nodded as he took that statement in and then shrugged it off. “That seems fair,” he agreed, dropping back down into his seat to begin digging into the food that he’d ordered.


	16. Chapter 15

“I think it captures the real me,” Killian explained, looking down to the piece of paper in his hands.

“Does uh… does the _real_ you have a foot bigger than your head?” Emma snorted out, as she bit down on her lip to try and control the giggles building inside of her.

Henry wasn’t even trying. The little boy was laughing so hard that the bed was shaking underneath Killian, and while the footballer wanted to be annoyed that they were clearly mocking his lack of artistic abilities, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry about anything that made Henry and Emma laugh like that.

“It’s metaphorical,” he bluffed. “It’s supposed to convey the importance of my feet. You know, because I’m a footballer.”

Emma cocked her head to one side as she studied the picture Killian had drawn of himself. “Okay… so what’s the metaphorical importance of your left hand?” she asked.

David shot the other man a look that said he should absolutely _not_ voice whatever had caused that spark of mischief to flare to life behind his eyes, and Emma rolled her own at their antics.

“You know what, I think we’re done critiquing mine now. Show us yours, Swan.”

“Mum’s really good,” Henry threw in. He sounded so proud of her abilities that any hesitation Emma felt at showing off her own drawing all-but disappeared, and she quickly scooped it up from the table top.

“It’s only a rough sketch so go easy on me,” she warned, before turning it around with a flourish.

Killian’s jaw dropped with his surprise.

When Henry had said that his mum was good, Killian had assumed that the kid thought she was good based on a limited knowledge and understanding of the art world. He didn’t think that Henry meant she was actually _really_ good.

“Wow, Swan. You’ve uh… you’ve been holding out on me.”

“It’s not my best work,” she explained, blushing a little at his compliment. “I’d normally prefer more than just thirty minutes to work on a portrait. But it’s not the worst I’ve done either.”

“If that’s not your best work, I can’t even begin to imagine how good you’d be with more time. That’s amazing!” Killian reached out to take the page from her hands and Emma reluctantly let go of it. She’d always enjoyed drawing, but she’d never really been a big fan of showing off the things she sketched. She drew because it helped her to relax, not because she wanted praise for her work. But when Henry had suggested that they should all draw a picture after dinner, she hadn’t wanted to be the only person to refuse. So while the others had opted to create self-portraits, Emma had decided to focus on something else. She had taken a picture earlier that day, when Henry and Killian had been distracted by another superhero movie, and that had been her source of inspiration for her sketch.

The way that she’d managed to capture her son’s absolute joy, and Killian’s contentment at being a part of their lives, had left the latter of the two feeling a little breathless as he looked down at the likeness of himself on the page. While fans had sent him their artwork before, nobody had ever drawn him so realistically.

“Uh… do me a favour and sign the bottom of that, will ya?” he asked, as he handed the sketch back to Emma.

“Why?”

“Because that’s how people will know that it’s a genuine Swan masterpiece when you become a big-time artist.”

“Oh, yeah, because the presence of my son in the image isn’t enough to confirm that,” she replied, rolling her eyes a little. But Emma still bent her head to scribble her signature in the corner of the page.

“Thanks. I’m keeping that.” Killian reached over the little boy sat to his right and snatched the sheet of paper off the table before Emma could protest, triggering more giggles from Henry.

“Hey! What if I don’t want you to keep it?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to come and take it from me,” he challenged darkly, as he slid the picture carefully between two of the folders in his backpack. When he straightened up again he turned away from Emma’s glowering face and directed his full attention to her father instead. “Your turn, Dave. Let’s see your masterpiece,” he declared gleefully.

“I feel like mines gonna be incredibly underwhelming now,” the other man protested, as he held up his own drawing to show the room.

Henry’s giggles at his grandfather’s oddly proportioned self-portrait could be heard by the nurses at the other end of the ward.

* * *

After their little impromptu drawing session, Henry’s energy levels began to dip. Emma turned on the television in the room and allowed Killian to pick a movie, as her son started unwinding from the day’s excitement. She was about ten minutes into The Incredibles when her need to use a restroom became impossible to ignore, and she sighed a little as she stood up to stretch out her aching muscles.

“I’m just gonna head to the bathroom, Kid. You’ll be okay with Killian and your Grandpa, right?”

Henry nodded his head sleepily and Emma turned to leave, but she stopped when she saw Killian push himself up from the bed. He carefully extracted the arm that had been wrapped around her son’s shoulders as he turned to ask, “Can I come down with you? The bathrooms up here are…”

“Small,” she offered for him, and he nodded his head in agreement. Emma had learned pretty early into Henry’s care that the restrooms on the ward had been designed with the kids in mind. So while they were still useable, they were far from comfortable.

“You’ll be back, right?” Henry worried, as his hand shot out to grab onto Killian’s arm. He looked more alert at that moment than he had in the thirty minutes before, and Killian cursed himself for moving too soon. The kid would probably have fallen asleep within the hour if he’d stayed put.

“Of course. I’m not gonna leave without saying goodbye,” he promised. Henry still didn’t look entirely convinced, so Killian reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his keys, before setting them into the young boy’s lap. “There, now I _literally_ cannot go anywhere without coming back,” he explained. “You have my car and house keys. I’ll be homeless without them.”

Henry looked down at the offering before tilting his head up to meet his idol’s eyes. He must have found what he was looking for behind Killian’s gaze as he finally let go of the man’s arm.

“I’ll be back soon,” the footballer promised, reaching out to give the young boy’s shoulder a soft squeeze. Killian offered David a nod of solidarity before following Emma from the room.

Henry picked up the keys in his lap and turned each one of them over, lingering a little on the leather keyfob they were attached to. He didn’t know much about cars, but he was pretty sure that Killian drove a sporty one. The shiny badge looked like the one he’d seen on a convertible in town before he’d fallen sick.

When the young boy finally lifted his head to meet his grandfather’s eyes, David was expecting a question about the car that Killian drove. He wasn’t expecting the one that Henry voiced.

“Grandpa, can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” David said after a moment. “Why? Do you have one to share with me?”

“Maybe.”

David gave Henry a moment to think through whatever it was that was on his mind. He didn’t want to rush the lad and have Henry refuse to share his secret with him, but he was more than a little curious about what his grandson might have been hiding.

“Will you help me convince Killian to ask my mum out?” the young boy eventually asked.


	17. Chapter 16

“You uh… you want my help with what now?” David asked, still a little stunned by what his grandson had said.

“Convincing Killian to ask my mum out.”

“I uh… I’m… Henry, you do know that a man and a woman can just be friends, right? They don’t _need_ to date to spend time together,” he explained carefully.

“Of course. I’m not stupid,” the little boy replied, glaring at his grandfather for daring to even imply that he was.

“Then why do you think we should be meddling in this? Surely if Killian liked your mum, he’d ask her out when he was ready?”

“He won’t,” Henry protested. “He’s too focused on me to realise that he likes her. And mum’s _never_ gonna make the first move. So we should do it for them.”

“If Killian’s not making a move then it’s probably because he doesn’t see your mum that way,” David explained patiently. He’d never tried describing the intricacies of dating to a child before, and now he knew why.

“He does,” Henry stated confidently. When his grandfather opened his mouth to protest again, the little boy lifted a hand to begin ticking off his points. “He talks about mum all the time when she’s not here. _‘I wonder what your mum’s doing. Have you heard from your mum yet? Do you think we should send her some flowers? How’s Emma?_ ’” he parroted back, butchering Killian’s accent in the process. Henry lifted another finger as he added, “He also does that teasing thing that Will used to do with Nurse Belle before they started dating. _And_ ,” he exaggerated, lifting a final finger, “He looks at mum the same way that you look at Grandma.”

“He does?” David was a little shocked by that revelation. He’d watched the easy way that his daughter had interacted with the footballer that evening, but he’d just assumed that it was because Emma wasn’t as star-struck as the rest of them were around him. His mind hadn’t even made a leap to the possibility of a romance forming between the two of them.

“Yeah, Grandpa. You might need your eyes testing again if you missed that.”

David shot his grandson a dirty look as he tried his best to wrap his mind around the idea of Killian Jones dating his daughter. From what he’d seen of the guy so far, David certainly liked him. He just wasn’t sure how much he would _continue_ to like him if he knew that Killian was defiling his baby girl every night.

“So… are you gonna help me or not?” Henry demanded, giving his grandfather his best pleading puppy-dog eyes.

“I dunno, Henry. I’m not sure how comfortable I feel with this. I mean… what if your mum doesn’t want to date him? Or what if you’re wrong? Killian might already have a girlfriend for all we know.”

He probably had a different one for every night of the week, given the reputation some of his teammates had. Footballers could be a sleazy bunch, and the more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea of his only daughter dating one of them.

“He doesn’t, and I’m not. But if you don’t wanna help me that’s fine.” Henry paused for a moment to watch as David’s brow furrowed with his confusion before he delivered his killer blow. “I’ll just ask Grandma instead.”

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Killian asked, as he pushed the button to take them down to the lobby.

“Much better, thanks. I’m just hoping that my boss will let me make up the hours I missed at work.” Emma was already behind on her electricity bill. She couldn’t really afford to lose half a week of pay right then.

“If uh… if I can help at all, you’ll let me know, right?”

“Thanks, Killian, but I’m not taking a hand-out from you,” Emma stated firmly. She’d dealt with everything on her own so far, so she certainly wasn’t planning to change that anytime soon.

“You wouldn’t have to,” he assured her. “It could just be a temporary loan, if you need it. Without the kind of crazy interest rates that the bank charge. Just… just promise that you’ll come to me if you need it, Emma. I don’t wanna see you guys struggling more because your pride stopped you from reaching out for help.”

Emma made the mistake of turning her head to meet his gaze. She could see the genuine sincerity behind Killian’s words. That desire he had to help, in whatever way he could. And as a result of that, she found herself nodding her agreement to his promise.

“Good,” he declared, offing her a small smile as he did. “So um, has Whale said anything yet about those test results?”

“No, not yet. He said that you guys caused a flood of volunteers to offer samples, so the lab’s a little backed-up at the moment. But they’re working as fast as they can.”

“That’s good. Hopefully he’ll have some news for us soon.” Killian was getting a little edgy now. Every time his phone rang he answered it expecting bad news. He wasn’t sure his heart would be able to take it when the time finally came for him to find out his results. Surely he hadn’t been brought into Henry’s life just to offer the kid false hope of finding a match.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Emma replied, but she didn’t sound too optimistic about the situation either.

As the elevator doors slid open, Killian gestured for her to step out ahead of him and then followed close behind, watching as she easily navigated the corridors of the hospital. He didn’t want to know how many times she’d made that same walk before. He couldn’t bear to think about it.

“Henry says that you’re going away soon,” she said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of them.

“Yeah. Champions League group games start soon. Our first one’s in Portugal, against Porto. It’s not gonna be an easy game, though.”

“But you get a trip to Portugal,” she teased. “That’s gotta be worth the journey?”

“We uh… we don’t actually get that much time to see the country,” Killian chuckled. “We’ll fly out the afternoon before the game and then straight back to Manchester when it’s over.”

“Isn’t that a little unfair? Surely you guys need time to adjust to the climate and stuff before the match, and then some time to rest after it?”

“That’s a footballer’s life, Love. We have a premier league game at the weekend that we need to be back for, and we play the weekend before the group stages begin too. There isn’t time for us to adjust to being in another country, let alone to rest up after the game.” Killian shrugged his shoulders almost as if he were attempting to shrug away her concern. But he had to admit that it was touching to see how much Emma already seemed to care for him, even if she still didn’t fully understand the sport he played.

“Well, I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard,” she said after a moment. “If you need to rest, then rest, Killian. That email I sent wasn’t supposed to guilt-trip you into visiting Henry every week. If you’re busy with games, stay at home and sleep. We both understand that everyone else has a life away from this hospital… and away from us.”

Killian’s hand shot out to grip Emma’s elbow as he turned her back to face him. He wanted her to see the sincerity behind his words when he spoke next, and he wanted her to know that he was being completely honest with her as he did.

“I’m here because I want to be,” he promised. “I’m here because I enjoy spending time with Henry, and with his mother. I’m not here because I think you expect it of me, and I certainly don’t think either of you are guilt-tripping me into helping out. I might be busy with work, but if you can manage eight-hour shifts five times a week between spending time with your son and worrying about the future, then I can _certainly_ manage a few afternoons a week with two people I’ve come to care a great deal for.”

Emma’s eyes were feeling a little misty again, and she mentally cursed the man for being able to make her cry so much in such a short space of time. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve having someone like Killian in her life, but she wasn’t planning to let him go any time soon.

Not that Henry would ever let her.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry for being MIA for a while. I had to take a step back to work on improving my health and then catch up at work.**

Emma bit down on her bottom lip to stop it from trembling as she ran a soothing hand over her son’s back. Belle was sat on the other side of the bed doing the same thing while they watched Henry’s small body convulse again, before he spat the contents of his stomach out into the bowl between his legs.

“It hurts,” he gasped out, turning wide eyes up to his mother.

“I know, Baby. I know. But it’ll be over soon. I promise.”

The little boy vomited twice more before all of his energy seemed to leave him, and he sagged in his mother’s arms. Belle reached for Emma’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze. It was the nurse’s way of telling her not to lose hope and to never give up. But for Emma, hope was becoming harder and harder to cling to.

“I wanna sleep now,” Henry mumbled.

Belle reached for the bowl on his lap as she stood from the bed while Emma eased her son’s body down to the mattress. She immediately began fussing with the sheets while the nurse busied herself with cleaning up. Henry had thrown off his Manchester United fleece when he’d felt the vomiting come on, but now that it had passed, he eagerly snuggled down into its softness as Emma wrapped it around his small frame.

“I’ll be down the hall if you need anything,” Belle offered softly, before showing herself out of the room.

“Are you okay, Baby? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Henry’s head shook slowly against the pillow as his eyes fluttered closed. Emma pulled her chair up closer to the bed and reached for his hand to hold tightly in her own. The silence in the room felt suffocating, but she didn’t want to break it while her son was trying to sleep. So when Henry eventually spoke up, Emma jumped a little in surprise.

“I miss Killian.”

“I’m sure he misses you too, Baby. He’ll be here on Friday to see you again,” Emma promised.

Killian had stopped by Monday evening to see how everyone was doing, but with his midweek Champions League game he’d been kept away from the hospital thanks to the rigorous training he was being put through. The guy had still managed to call the hospital every night and talk to Henry for at least an hour about their days, but it wasn’t quite the same as being able to see him, and Emma knew that Henry was missing his friend.

If she were being truly honest with herself, Emma was missing the footballer too. It had been nice having someone around that she could talk to. Someone that wasn’t one of her parents and didn’t give her that look of sympathy she’d come to expect from them both, every time she saw them. Someone who would happily change the subject when they knew she needed it, without judging her for doing so. And someone who would sit with Henry without asking questions, while she shut herself away for an hour to cry over that helpless feeling that had taken root in the bottom of her stomach, and seemed to be growing more and more with every day that passed.

“Can we send him a message?” Henry whispered. “Just to wish him luck?”

Emma froze for a moment at her son’s words. She’d never reached out to Killian before. She’d never wanted to bother him with her troubles, knowing how busy and in-demand he must be. But Emma also knew that she could never refuse her son anything. Especially not on the days where he needed something to help make him smile.

“Let me see if I still have his number,” she told Henry, before standing up and heading for the small table by the window.

Emma knew exactly where she’d stashed Killian’s number. She’d told herself she’d never use it, unless the worst were to happen, but she still couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.

“Okay, Baby, what do you wanna tell him?” she asked, as she dropped back down into her seat with the small scrap of paper in one hand and her phone in the other. But when Emma lifted her head to meet her son’s eyes she found Henry’s closed as his breathing evened out with sleep.

Emma hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking back and forth between the number in her hand and the sleeping boy on the bed, before she finally made her decision.

* * *

As soon as their flight landed in Porto, Killian reached for his phone. It was stupid really, Emma never reached out to him when he wasn’t at the hospital, so it wasn’t like he was expecting an update from her on Henry’s condition. But having his phone off for so long, while someone he cared for was in such a vulnerable position, felt wrong.

As he made his way over to the coach that was waiting just outside of the airport, Killian flicked through the messages that he’d received while he’d been in the air. The ones from his mother and brother he’d expected. They always worried whenever he travelled, so he stopped to quickly snap a picture of himself standing in front of the plane to send their way before he thumbed through the others. Most of them could wait until he made it to his hotel room, but there was one message in particular, from an unknown number, that caught his attention.

_We just wanted to take a moment to wish you luck for tomorrow._

_Henry’s had a rough couple of days so he’s really looking forward to seeing you play._

_We miss you._

The message wasn’t signed but it didn’t need to be. There was only one Henry in his life, and Killian hated that he wasn’t able to be by his side while the little boy was suffering.

He took a moment to save Emma’s number to his phone before he clicked back through to her message thread and tapped out his reply.

**We just landed here in Porto.**   
**It’s much warmer than Manchester was.**   
**We’re on our way back to the hotel now to freshen up before the press conference.**

**How’s Henry doing?**

**Is there anything I can send you guys to help?**

**Food?**   
**Drinks?**   
**Comic books?**   
**My mam?**

**I miss you guys too.** **X**

He hesitated for just a moment before attaching the picture he’d taken of himself at the airport to the message and then hit send. If Henry couldn’t experience Porto with him, then Killian would take as many photographs of his time spent there as he possibly could, so that the little boy knew he wasn’t being left out.

“Hey, John. Take some pictures of us all for me, will ya?” he asked, as he opened the camera app on his phone and tossed the device down the bus and into his friend’s waiting hands. (It was a fairly impressive feat, given that their driver was taking the corners of the road at a speed that Killian was pretty sure was illegal.)

“Why? Is mummy worrying about your safety?” the other guy teased gently.

“They’re for Henry. He’s having a rough couple of days so I thought they might cheer him up a little.”

Killian wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so many phones come out at once as the team he’d travelled with began snapping their own pictures of themselves; the scenery; and even their bus driver, ready to send to the little boy they’d all fallen in love with earlier that year.

**Author's Note:**

> **Thanks for reading.**


End file.
